Overcoming Darkness
by Mi-chan7879
Summary: Cesare finds it almost impossible to believe that Chiaro truly cares for him as much as he says. However, he knows that if it's true, he might be willing to give up anything to remain Chiaro's friend. NOT yaoi or shonen-ai.
1. Friends

**Chapter 1: Friends**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Cantarella, because if I owned Cantarella, I wouldn't have made Cesare fall in love with Chiaro **_**or**_** Chiaro fall in love with Lucrezia, and I would therefore have given the story a happy ending. But apparently Higari Yui, who does own Cantarella, likes depressing shonen-ai stories.**

**A/N: Chapter 1 takes place only a few weeks after Chiaro started serving Cesare.**

**FYI: This story is NOT meant to be yaoi or shonen-ai. Unless otherwise stated, any references to love in this story refer to platonic friendship love. **

Chiaro woke with a start and sat up in bed, reaching for his sword, before realizing that hearing his father say his name and then seeing him run through was only a nightmare. A nightmare that had really happened, yes, but a nightmare all the same, and one he'd had three times in as many weeks. He sighed, wiping the sweat off his brow. As he recovered from the horror of the nightmare, a wave of loneliness washed over him, and he blinked back tears.

In the other bed, Cesare stirred, and Chiaro winced to see him tossing and turning in his sleep, occasionally giving a small whimper. The devils were flailing around him, probably driving him crazy even in his dreams. And it was all Chiaro's fault. Well, maybe not all; the devils had flocked around him before Chiaro had let them heal him as well, but it was Chiaro's fault that they were now inside him as well as out. He felt a stab of guilt and sighed. He really had messed everything up. If he had killed Cesare when Cesare had asked, not only would his father be free and alive—maybe—but Cesare wouldn't have to be tormented by demons. This latter thing haunted him much more than the former, and he wondered again if Cesare hated him for letting him become like this.

Sighing again, Chiaro silently got to his feet and went to sit on the edge of Cesare's bed. Cesare looked even younger when he slept, even if he sometimes seemed much older than his fifteen years when he was awake. Gently, Chiaro put out a hand to touch his head, wondering if that might bring him some relief.

Immediately, the devils faded from around his head and Cesare stopped flailing. "Mother?" he whispered, eyes still closed.

Chiaro smiled a little. Mother? Hardly. He waited for a few moments. The demons didn't come back. The moth-sorcerer had said something about him being able to chase the devil away, and Chiaro had confidently told him that he could control Cesare's demons, but he hadn't really been sure at the time. Did the demons flee at his touch? How had he, Chiaro, gotten that ability? Did Cesare know? Well, he must. That was probably why he'd wanted Chiaro to stay with him. So perhaps… he could still make up for what he'd done.

Chiaro watched as Cesare's breathing slowed and he fell into a deep sleep. "Sleep well," he whispered, then rose to go back to his bed. A moan from Cesare made him turn around. The demons had come back as soon as he'd gotten up. Quickly, he sat back down and stroked Cesare's hair. What was he going to do? He couldn't sit here all night. He was tired, and he'd end up falling asleep in Cesare's bed. Which… might not be a bad thing for Cesare, now that he thought about it.

Chiaro rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, thinking it over. Sharing a bed without necessity seemed a little familiar for having only known Cesare for a few weeks. But… well, the worst that could happen would be that Cesare would wake up and get mad at him. Chiaro doubted Cesare would hurt him, since he seemed very keen on having him around.

Hesitantly, Chiaro got in bed beside Cesare who, to his shock, whimpered a little and rolled close to him, nestling his head against Chiaro's shoulder and putting up a hand to clutch his shirt. Chiaro lay frozen for a moment. What was this kid _doing_? "Cesare?" he whispered, but there was no response. Should he wake Cesare up and tell him to let go? This was too much. Lying next to Cesare was one thing, but Chiaro had no intention of _snuggling_ with him. He put his hand on Cesare's, trying to open it so Cesare would _let go_. Cesare responded by taking hold of Chiaro's hand instead. And not letting go. Chiaro felt his face grow warm. Why on earth had he thought it would be a good idea to share a bed with Cesare?

Then he caught sight of the Cesare's face. He looked so very young and fragile. Like a little boy snuggling into his big brother to hide from the monsters under the bed. Except Cesare's monsters were real. Chiaro sighed and relaxed just a little. What did it matter? He could be Cesare's big brother tonight. Still feeling a little awkward, Chiaro managed to transfer Cesare's hand back to his shirt so he could put his arms around him. He watched the last of the demons dissipate at his touch. Cesare gave a long, soft sigh and nestled a little closer, looking completely at peace for the first time since Chiaro had met him. He could make Cesare look like that just by holding him?

Chiaro continued to hold Cesare, feeling less awkward as the minutes passed and Cesare showed no intention of moving. Did Cesare actually know he was here? Chiaro couldn't imagine that he did—Cesare normally seemed to be nervous about being touched, like he wasn't used to it. Should Chiaro stay the night? Wouldn't Cesare feel strange waking up in the morning in the arms of someone who was practically a stranger? But then… Chiaro almost always woke up before Cesare, so he would leave before Cesare woke up.

Chiaro smiled a little, and closed his eyes. Yes, this was still awkward, but it was also kind of nice being so close to someone, especially in the cold of the night. Besides, he liked Cesare. He felt his loneliness getting swept away somehow by Cesare's presence as he fell asleep.

The next morning, Chiaro woke up before Cesare and was relieved to find that Cesare was no longer clinging to his shirt. Very carefully, he released Cesare and dislodged himself. Cesare stirred a little, but didn't wake as Chiaro silently got to his feet and went to dress. It wasn't until nearly fifteen minutes later that Cesare stirred again and sat up. He looked a little confused. "Chiaro?"

"Yes. Good morning."

Cesare looked over at him, still seeming a little groggy. "Was someone… here?"

"No. Why?"

Cesare smiled a little. "I had a good dream. That hasn't happened in a while." He looked at Chiaro again and looked a little confused for a moment. He shook his head a little, like he was dismissing something.

"What was the dream about?"

Cesare was quiet for a moment. "An angel held me and kept the demons at bay." He looked at Chiaro again, and Chiaro tried not to blush. Cesare looked away and smiled. "I should go to school." Did he know? Had that been a request to do it again? Chiaro sighed, looking away himself and unconsciously rubbing his head. Well, maybe he wouldn't mind doing it again. He was starting to feel real affection for this kid who'd come into his life by accident, and he was glad again (though he still felt guilty about it) that he hadn't let Cesare die. It was selfish and horrible, but maybe Chiaro could make it up to him by holding him when he had nightmares.

"You're very quiet," Cesare said, making him jump.

Chiaro turned to him. "Hey," he said, "I was… wondering."

"Wondering?" Cesare asked, pulling on his clothes.

"Um… do you hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?"

"You said you'd never forgive me."

"I meant I'd never forgive your debt. You have to stay with me. But I don't hate you."

Chiaro paused. "Then…." He stopped.

"Then?" Cesare prompted, with a somewhat irritated "get to your point" tone to his voice.

"Then… could we be friends?"

Cesare turned to him, looking confused. "Friends?"

"Well, since we'll be together anyway… it would be nice to be friends, right?"

Cesare's cheeks went a little pink, and he looked away. "Stupid. You want to be friends with a monster who's made you his prisoner?"

"You're not a monster. Not yet, anyway, and I don't intend to let you become one. Also, I'm not your prisoner; I want to stay with you."

Cesare looked back at him with raised eyebrows. "Then you're even more stupid. And yes, you are my prisoner, because you don't get to leave whether or not you want to stay. But fine, if you want to be friends, I don't have a problem with it." He looked away.

Chiaro smiled, not really minding the insults. He didn't sense any malice from Cesare, only confusion. And Cesare really was just a kid, after all. He even seemed to have forgotten that Chiaro was perfectly capable of taking his freedom by force and simply chose not to. "Thanks."

Cesare looked back at him, his expression still a bit bemused but otherwise impossible to read. Then he shrugged and tightened his laces. "I'll see you later. Be careful." With that, he left.

…

Cesare frowned, stopping just outside the lecture hall. He really didn't feel like going to class today. Maybe he'd skip. He already knew what the professor was going to talk about anyway. He sighed a little, sitting down. Chiaro had somehow lodged himself very firmly into Cesare's mind this morning, and it wasn't just because he'd woken up feeling like he'd been free of the demons the entire night. He had woken feeling warm and safe, and for some reason he'd expected Chiaro to be holding him, before he woke up all the way and realized that the idea was absurd. No, what was confusing Cesare the most was what Chiaro had said.

Chiaro was the strangest person Cesare had ever met. Had he really thought Cesare hated him? Chiaro was an idiot for not killing him, but it had been a foolish act of misguided mercy, not one of malice. He wasn't sure it was possible for someone like Chiaro to feel malice. By the same token, he wasn't sure it was possible to hate someone like Chiaro. Besides, Chiaro had been taking care of him ever since, being so kind it was almost painful, giving him precious smiles and gentle words, even lightly teasing him on occasion. He hadn't shown any resentment. If anything, he acted _grateful_.

Cesare sighed again, thinking that God should have put more thought into this. Sending someone as pure and good as Chiaro to someone as twisted as Cesare was absurd. More than absurd, it was stupid. Did God think Cesare wouldn't use Chiaro to accomplish his goals? That Cesare would come to cherish him and change his ways as a result? Cesare fully intended to turn Chiaro into his assassin, regardless of the implications to Chiaro's soul. He'd _told_ Chiaro he would. What was God thinking, sending a demoniac an angel of death to do with as he pleased?

And Chiaro himself was supremely stupid. Why on _earth_ did he want to be friends? It wasn't as if Cesare could actually _love_ him, although he was sure that in another life he would have found it impossible not to. He'd forgotten how to love when Marrone had betrayed him, and he doubted he could relearn now that he was a monster. Maybe he could _like_ Chiaro. Maybe. Did Chiaro wanting to be friends mean that Chiaro liked him?

Something throbbed in Cesare's chest, interrupting his thoughts. He put his hand to his heart, surprised. Apparently some part of his soul still ached to be loved. Did that mean he was still human after all? At least partly human? He considered. He didn't want this part of him to die. But did he really want to entrust it to Chiaro, who all things considered was practically a stranger? He'd already been betrayed once. But then again… Chiaro had just lost his father, and was probably lonely. As long as Cesare kept him from being too close to anyone else, the only person he would have would be Cesare. He would naturally cling to Cesare for friendship. He was, after all, a friendly person. Besides… it wasn't as though Cesare had anyone else.

No one had ever asked to be his friend before. Now that he thought about it… that was really very nice. He'd thought Chiaro would be _upset_ having to stay by his side. He was a demoniac, after all, and Chiaro was an angel. Ironic. Ridiculous. Impossible, really, that Chiaro would actually _want_ to be friends with someone like him. Impossible that Chiaro liked him. Did he just want to be friends out of pity? Cesare sighed. Did it really matter? He was lonely too. He'd take what he could get. And maybe Chiaro was crazy enough to like him. He'd been ridiculously devoted to his insane father, after all.

Most importantly, Cesare wanted Chiaro with him. He was terrified of the demons that had saved his life by entering his body, and what scared him the most was that he seemed to no longer have any intrinsic sense of right and wrong. He had no idea how to act toward Chiaro, or how to guarantee his loyalty. So, he would let Chiaro decide. He rather liked Chiaro's decision.

"I have a friend," he said out quietly, trying the words on his tongue. They felt good. "I have a friend," he said again. "His name is Chiaro, my angel of light." He smiled. He didn't really trust Chiaro, but maybe he could enjoy his company. It had been a long time since he'd had company of any kind, other than Tagio della Volpe, who Cesare had been avoiding like the plague ever since his encouragement had led Cesare to find out the truth about his father. And Chiaro was actually his age, or close to it. Having him as a friend might be entertaining, if nothing else.

"I have a friend," Cesare said for the third time, smiling again. He glanced toward the entrance to the lecture hall. "And I think I'd rather be with him than in class today." Come to think of it, why not have Chiaro come to school with him? Surely he could pull a few strings, and he certainly had the money. It would be nice to have a companion at school. Still smiling, Cesare headed back to suggest the idea to his new… friend.


	2. A Losing Battle

**Chapter 2. A Losing Battle**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Cantarella. Cantarella is the property of Yuu Higuri, whose name I spelled wrong in the last chapter (gomen).**

**A/N: The first scene in this chapter is from the end of Chapter 12 in the manga, with some additions of my own.**

**A/N 2: I'm not exactly sure when the scene at the end of Chapter 12 takes place; I'm guessing Cesare is nineteen or twenty, so this is maybe four or five years after the first chapter.**

_Chiaro! Please, Chiaro! Chiaro!_ Chiaro got to his feet. "Cesare?" he said aloud, though he hadn't heard the voice aloud. He looked around, then began quickly walking through the house, looking for his master. "Cesare!" he called again. _Chiaro!_ Chiaro put a hand to his head, heart beating wildly. His best friend was in trouble, and he couldn't even find him. He grabbed hold of Pedro when he saw him. "Cesare. Where is he?"

"In his room. Signore della Volpe just went in to see him." Pedro looked nervous.

"Thank you." Chiaro ran to Cesare's room and stopped upon entering. The room was in utter shambles and Cesare looked on the verge of fainting in Volpe's arms. "Cesare. You called me?"

Cesare looked up at him with an expression of shock and desperation. A second later, he had leapt to his feet and rushed forward, catching Chiaro in his arms and clutching him. Chiaro caught him, holding him tightly. "Chi… aro…." Cesare couldn't seem to stop trembling.

Chiaro stood in shock for a moment. Cesare had never hugged him in all the years they'd known each other. Not while he was awake, anyway. Some part of him was happy in spite of his worry. He rubbed Cesare's back, which seemed to calm him the most during his nightmares, and looked around the room, deducing that Cesare had gone berserk from the demons and had made this mess himself. He'd done this once before in his sleep, but Chiaro didn't think he knew about that time. He'd cleaned up everything before Cesare woke up and had given Pedro a few coins so he wouldn't complain when Cesare blamed him for the things that were broken.

"Shh," he said. "Calm down. This isn't like you." He kept an arm around Cesare's shoulders as Cesare pulled away and covered his face, then turned to Volpe. "I'm sorry. Would you leave us alone for a minute?" Chiaro really didn't trust Volpe to deal with Cesare's demons.

"What's happened to Master Cesare?"

"A fit of sorts," Chiaro replied. "You needn't worry."

Volpe's eyes blazed with jealousy for a moment, but then he left the room, and Chiaro drew Cesare back into his arms. Cesare gasped a little, clinging again. "Shh," Chiaro whispered again. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Cesare hid his face in Chiaro's shoulder, his breathing slowly calming down. It was a while before he let go, and Chiaro hoped Volpe wouldn't come back and interrupt. It took even longer for Chiaro to really calm Cesare down, and they had to go into another room. After effectively distracting him with a cup of newt tea and whining when he wouldn't drink it, Cesare seemed much calmer, and even managed to smile.

"How did you know I was in trouble?" he asked after a while.

"You called me, didn't you?" Chiaro asked.

Cesare looked truly startled. "No, I didn't!"

Chiaro was confused. "Your voice echoed in my head." He'd thought Cesare was doing it on purpose this time.

Cesare stared at him in surprise, then turned a little pink. "I see… well…" He put his face in his hand. "It was unconscious. I'm sorry."

Chiaro cocked his head a little, wondering why Cesare felt he needed to apologize for letting Chiaro know he needed him, but Cesare quickly changed the subject, so he couldn't ask. As he listened to Cesare talk about his frustration with the battle and his role as a cardinal, and his other ambitions, and how he felt he was being pulled into darkness, Chiaro suddenly wanted to pull him close again. To shut out the world, to hold him together and keep him from falling apart.

Cesare put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Chiaro. I'm glad I have you."

Chiaro smiled a little, letting the words warm him, but it tore at his heart to know he was fighting a losing battle to keep Cesare.

…

Cesare sighed. Today was a bad day. Most days were bad days now, and they were getting worse. He edged his horse a little closer to Chiaro's, hoping that would help a little.

"You all right?" Chiaro asked, looking at him. "Geez, they're flocking around you." He moved his own horse closer and put out a hand to shoo away some of the demons, lightly brushing Cesare's shoulder. Cesare smiled a little at these antics, and Chiaro rolled his eyes. "Right, of course; the great Cesare Borgia doesn't even notice swarming demons."

Cesare looked away, thinking of when Chiaro had held him. Would Chiaro ever hold him again? "Actually," he said, "could we take a rest?"

"Oh. Sure."

They stopped their horses near a large tree and Cesare sat down. "Come sit," he said, and Chiaro came and sat beside him. Not close enough. Cesare moved closer and leaned back against his shoulder. Chiaro jerked in surprise, then relaxed.

"Cesare?"

"Just… for a minute," Cesare said, closing his eyes. "Let me be free of them for a minute." He started as Chiaro's arm suddenly wrapped around him and almost got up, startled.

"Relax," Chiaro said, pulling him back with a smile. "Take a break. We're safe here, and if anything happens, I'll protect you."

"Oh… all right." Cesare smiled a little and slowly relaxed, breathing in Chiaro's scent mingled with the smell of the grass and the tree they were leaning against. There were birds singing above him. Cesare didn't normally notice these things… having a perpetual cloud of demons around him tended to dull his senses a little, at least to anything beautiful.

"Are you asleep?" Chiaro asked, his voice quiet enough that if Cesare was asleep, it wouldn't wake him. Cesare considered not responding and letting Chiaro think he was asleep. But he shook his head. "You _can_ go to sleep, if you want," Chiaro said, his voice still soft and soothing. "We're not due back until this evening. Just forget about everything for a while. Take a rest. I'll stay with you."

The offer was tempting, but letting his guard down that much in open country, even with Chiaro at his side, seemed a little foolish. Besides, if he fell asleep he wouldn't be able to enjoy this. Chiaro really had been extremely affectionate lately, ever since Cesare had lost control of himself and nearly destroyed his room. He hadn't gone so far as to actually _hold_ Cesare, but he'd hugged him a few times, and he'd put an arm around his shoulder or a hand on his arm at random, giving Cesare precious moments of peace. Which Cesare teased him about and raised his eyebrow at, not wanting Chiaro to know how much they meant to him, but wanting him to figure it out all the same. He sighed. Well, maybe Chiaro was figuring it out. After all, he was almost holding Cesare right now. But Cesare told himself not to expect too much. True, Chiaro called Cesare his friend and said he liked him, but Cesare didn't really believe him. An angel might pity a demoniac—might even be friends out of pity—but never like him. Perhaps he had at the beginning, before he'd actually gotten to know Cesare, and now kept up the pretence because he was a kind person.

It was odd, though. Why _was_ Chiaro being so suddenly affectionate? The entire time they'd known each other, Chiaro had never been very physical with him. He'd stay close to Cesare—often close enough that the demons stayed away in spite of Chiaro not actually touching him—and would often brush his hand lightly over Cesare's shoulders, back, or arms, scattering the demons, but Cesare could count the number of times Chiaro had hugged him on his fingers, and three of those hugs had been in the last week.

Well, no, that wasn't true. There were plenty of times that Cesare only vaguely remembered that the demons had practically attacked him and Chiaro had rushed in and held him tightly until they stopped, but that, although it had been wonderful, had been a matter of keeping Cesare from going berserk, and hadn't necessarily had anything to do with affection. The real, affectionate hugs were few and far between.

Of course, Cesare had hardly encouraged the touching. He didn't know what to do with it. When Chiaro hugged him, Cesare (assuming he was in his right mind) usually clung tightly then let go quickly, looking away so he wouldn't have to see Chiaro's reaction. Except that time, when Chiaro had pulled him back after he'd let go, and Cesare hadn't let go again for several solid minutes, making it pathetically obvious how desperately he wanted to be held.

Cesare sighed softly. So that was it. Chiaro was giving him lately what he'd made it obvious he wanted. The question was why. Was he trying to get Cesare to let his guard down? Like… like Marrone had? Was that why he'd encouraged Cesare to go to sleep? But… Chiaro had no reason to betray him, did he? He hadn't even been particularly awful to him lately. Was it because the demons were getting worse? Did Chiaro want his freedom now, and recognize that the only way he could get it was by killing Cesare?

Come to think of it, why _had_ Chiaro stayed with Cesare for so long? He was a skilled assassin and could have taken up with anyone. He could have found someone who _wouldn't_ hire him as an assassin, since he didn't like killing people. Yes, initially Cesare had made him feel guilty for not killing him, and Chiaro had pitied him for what his father had done, but guilt and pity weren't very good reasons to be so devoted to someone for so long. They wouldn't have held Cesare for a second. Not to mention, Chiaro could have absolved himself of his guilt over not killing Cesare six years ago by killing him now. Why didn't he? Why hadn't he? "Chiaro?"

"Still awake?"

"Yes. Why do you stay with me, Chiaro?"

Chiaro paused. "What do you mean? You're my master. Of course I stay with you."

"But you could find a different master."

"No, I couldn't."

Cesare sighed a little. "Chiaro, I know I say you have to stay with me, but you don't. You're valuable. You could find a job anywhere—serve anyone."

Another pause. "Cesare, you don't _want_ me to go, do you?" Was that _hurt_ in Chiaro's voice? No, Cesare had to be imagining it.

"Of course not," he replied. "If you left me, I'd hunt you down and drag you back and probably put you to torture for betraying me," he added honestly.

Chiaro gave a laugh. "I see."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are."

"You're laughing." Why didn't Chiaro ever react the way he was supposed to?

Cesare felt him shrug. "I don't plan on going anywhere, so I don't really have anything to worry about."

"But you _don't_ have to worry," Cesare said, opening his eyes. "You could kill me. You have plenty of opportunities. Even if it came to a duel, you'd probably win, and you could keep the demons from healing me. Then you could go and live your life and never have to worry about me again." He hoped he wasn't suggesting something Chiaro hadn't thought of and would now consider.

"Cesare, you're my best friend." His tone made Cesare sit up and look at his face. His expression was pained, like he couldn't understand how Cesare could even imagine him capable of such a betrayal. "I stay with you because you're important to me, and I want to. I love you."

Cesare stared at him. Chiaro's blue-green eyes didn't waver, and his face was completely serious. He was telling the truth. But… that was impossible, wasn't it? Completely impossible. "You said you'd kill me, though."

"Only if I absolutely had to," Chiaro said, starting to look a little alarmed. "Like… if you couldn't control them anymore… or if they took you over completely, so there wasn't any _you_ anymore, but I don't _want_ to, not ever if I can avoid it." He looked a little scared suddenly. "You're… not… asking me to, are you?" His eyes begged, 'Please don't.'

"Why?" Cesare asked.

"Why what?"

"Why are you so reluctant?"

"Because I don't want to lose you!"

Cesare closed his eyes, basking in the words. _"You're my best friend… I love you… I don't want to lose you!"_ He opened them, blinking a few times at unexpected moisture. What had he ever done to deserve this kind of devotion? Nothing. He had done nothing. He looked at Chiaro in confusion. He couldn't possibly be telling the truth. Much as Cesare wanted it to be true, it couldn't be. But Chiaro's face was completely sincere. How? "You're so…." He paused, searching for a word. Stupid came to mind. Irrational, maybe. Ridiculous. Insane. "Strange," he finally decided.

"Why?"

"I'm not human."

"Not completely, no."

"You say that so calmly," Cesare said. "I'm not some mermaid or centaur, half human and half animal. I am part _devil_."

A slight tremor seemed to pass through Chiaro for a moment. Cesare had a feeling he was constantly trying to forget this small detail. "I don't care," Chiaro said. "I love the part that's still you, and I'm bound and determined not to let it disappear."

Cesare swallowed, looking away. He wanted so badly to believe it. To believe that this one person could know everything about him and somehow still love him.

"Cesare, you act like this is a shock." Chiaro sounded confused. "I've said I like you. Several times."

Cesare leaned back against Chiaro's shoulder to have an excuse not to look at him. "Well, I didn't believe you," he said matter-of-factly.

"Why would I lie about something like that?"

Cesare sighed. "Because you're kind."

"But why would I be kind to you if I didn't like you?"

"No, I mean…." Cesare gave another short sigh. "You're one of _those_ people, who's kind to anyone who will sit still long enough. I'll bet you went around feeding stray cats when you were a child."

Chiaro said nothing for a moment. At last, he said, "I'm an assassin."

"Only because I make you."

"I was an assassin before I met you."

"And you hated it."

"You…." Chiaro broke off. Cesare sat up and looked at him to read his expression, but it was unreadable. It was very full, intense somehow.

"I what?" Cesare asked.

The expression faded, and Chiaro smiled. He put a hand on Cesare's head, his eyes warm. "You mean the world to me."

"That's not what you were going to say," Cesare said, not moving. "It's completely off topic."

"Perhaps," Chiaro replied, dropping his hand. "But it's true all the same."

"You'd have to be stupid to care about me that much."

Chiaro seemed to consider, then shrugged. "I'm stupid, then."

Cesare opened his mouth then closed it. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him that Chiaro might be being so affectionate lately because he _loved_ Cesare. Did that mean he had just started loving Cesare? Why? "But… when did this start?"

"When did I start loving you?" Chiaro asked. He paused for a moment. "A few weeks, maybe, after we met."

Cesare's jaw didn't drop, but it was only through sheer force of will that he kept it from doing so. He remembered that morning so many years ago, the first in years that he'd woken up feeling completely at peace, when Chiaro had inexplicably asked to be friends. But this didn't add up. If Chiaro was telling the truth, and he'd loved Cesare for years, then why was he only just now starting to show it? "But then why… not until recently…."

"Why what?"

Cesare looked away, studying a blade of grass. This conversation was making him feel very funny. Some part of him wanted to look at Chiaro, turn this whole thing into a joke, get back onto his horse and ride back home. To be back in the familiar darkness of his demons and his plans for world domination, not here, surrounded by warmth and light, with Chiaro sitting beside him and assuring him of his completely irrational and incomprehensible loyalty and friendship. It was confusing and a little frightening. But another part of him wanted nothing more than to stay where he was. It was strange. His feelings toward Chiaro were strange.

He thought back briefly to Chiaro's miraculous arrival on the scene of his tormenting demons. He hadn't run to Chiaro because he'd wanted Chiaro's light. He'd run to Chiaro because he'd wanted Chiaro. Because he trusted Chiaro. But no, it went beyond trusting. It went beyond liking.

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up. "Cesare?" Chiaro's eyes were gentle. "Are you okay?"

Cesare searched for an answer, but he honestly didn't know. _I love you too_, he thought. How had that happened? He'd thought he would never love again. When had he started loving Chiaro? It couldn't have been too long ago. _I love you too._ This scared him. If Chiaro did betray him, it would hurt so much more now. And yet…. _I can still love_.

"Come here." Then Chiaro drew him close, hugging him tightly.

Cesare clung to him, feeling pathetic and happy and terrified and grateful all at the same time. _Don't let go_, he thought. _Please don't let go._ But it was he who let go, long before he wanted to. Every time Chiaro had hugged him, in all the time they'd known each other, it had always been Cesare who ended the embrace.

"Are you okay?" Chiaro asked again as Cesare stood up.

"Of course," Cesare said with a smile.

Chiaro looked a little confused.

"I do need to make sure now and again, don't I? That my little assassin isn't going to leave me for a better offer?" He got on his horse fluidly, and laughed as Chiaro nearly missed the foothold on his horse because he was looking at Cesare. "Now, now, Chiaro, you can't be so single-minded in your undying devotion for me that you fail to pay attention to what you're doing."

Chiaro looked at Cesare from astride his horse. His face wasn't convinced. Cesare's heart gave a thrill, though whether it was from terror that Chiaro wasn't falling for his act or joy that Chiaro wasn't falling for his act, he couldn't tell. He laughed again. "Come on, I'll race you!"

"What? Cesare!" Chiaro called after him as he kicked his horse into a gallop. But Cesare had already pulled ahead, his instincts crying out for escape. Escape. _Escape._


	3. A Simple Solution

**Chapter 3: A Simple Solution?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Cantarella. Cantarella is the property of Yuu Higuri, who is much better at history and politics than I am, so please don't expect too much historical information.**

**A/N: As near as I can tell, Cesare seems to have some sort of mind-link with Chiaro whenever his demons get especially bad, so Chiaro can always sense when he's being attacked. For the record, in my story, Chiaro has been sleeping with Cesare (in completely non-sexual fashion) whenever the demons get really bad, ever since the first time. But Cesare still hasn't figured this out.**

Chiaro silently crept into Cesare's room, his heart aching at the sight of Cesare tossing and turning from nightmares. He quickly went and sat on the edge of the bed. Just this much seemed to send away Cesare's nightmares, and he immediately relaxed as Chiaro began to stroke his hair. "Chiaro," he murmured.

Chiaro stopped his hand briefly, but Cesare had only been talking in his sleep. For a long time when he'd started doing this, Cesare had called for Vanozza, but these days he always said Chiaro's name. Chiaro supposed it depended who Cesare most strongly associated with the demons being sent away.

Chiaro kept his eye on the demons keeping their distance. Occasionally they got tired of waiting and simply left Cesare alone for a while, and Chiaro went back to his room, but usually they stayed, especially lately. Chiaro certainly didn't mind staying—he was very used to this by now—but the more often he stayed, the more likely it was that Cesare would catch him at it. Chiaro had no idea how he would react. But tonight was a bad night. Not as bad as some—there had been nights that Cesare had started screaming in his sleep, alerting Volpe, Pedro and everyone else, but fortunately not before Chiaro had already arrived at the scene. When it got this bad, Cesare would sometimes fight him, staring wildly at him but clearly not recognizing him, until Chiaro managed to get close enough that the demons started to leave him alone. Then Cesare would cling to him, trembling and murmuring his name, hands knotted in the back of his shirt.

Volpe would usually stand there, watching as Chiaro rubbed Cesare's back in slow circles until his breathing calmed and he was no longer clinging, and then he would offer to stay with Cesare so Chiaro could go to sleep. Chiaro would simply stare at him until he left. Comforting Cesare was Chiaro's job. He did _not_ trust Volpe to deal with Cesare's demons, and anyway, he couldn't. Chiaro never knew if Cesare remembered these nights. He never mentioned them. Which was, of course, Chiaro's intention, but sometimes he wished Cesare knew and he wouldn't have to be secretive like this.

Carefully, he lay down next to Cesare. Like usual, Cesare rolled closer to him and nestled against his shoulder, relaxing as Chiaro put his arms around him. Although he felt bad for Cesare, Chiaro loved these nights, when his friend would actually allow him to hold him and comfort him and drive his demons away, even if he didn't know it. He loved the feeling of warmth it gave him, and he loved seeing the peaceful expression on Cesare's face. He almost never saw it when Cesare was awake. Only twice now—the two times Cesare had _let_ Chiaro hold him when he was awake. Why did he always pull away when it was so obvious he wanted to be held?

Chiaro shook his head. "You know," he whispered very, very softly, "You _could_ try being a little affectionate when you're _awake_. I wouldn't mind. Actually, I'd like it." Cesare didn't respond, and Chiaro rubbed his back until he fell asleep.

…

Cesare _had_ to get to the bottom of this. Chiaro seemed to be taking every excuse in these last few days to be close to him, and Cesare was finding it very hard to believe he didn't have some ulterior motive, particularly since it was _working_. He _was_ letting his guard down more and more when he was with Chiaro, especially since he'd realized he loved him, though that _ought_ to have made him _more_ on his guard. He kept thinking of Marrone, and no matter how much he told himself that Chiaro _wasn't_ Marrone and had no reason to kill him, another part of him castigated himself for loving Chiaro. It was bad enough, he thought, that Chiaro stayed with him out of loyalty rather than fear. That made an uncertain bond, which could break at any moment. But for Cesare to love Chiaro so much that the cleavage of that bond would destroy him—that was unacceptable. Oddly, he hadn't really feared losing Chiaro until he'd started loving him. It was all so strange.

Should he tell Chiaro to stop being so affectionate? His heart turned from the thought, only to earn him more mocking from the demons. But he figured at the very least, he ought to figure out why Chiaro was being affectionate to begin with. Until now, he'd thought Chiaro was a very hands-off person, but now he felt like he'd somehow given his permission and unleashed a flood of warmth that was as frightening and confusing as it was wonderful. And Chiaro said the reason was because he loved him. That made no sense, unless… unless Chiaro was _in_ love with him.

Cesare straightened up from leaning against the windowsill. Why hadn't he thought of that? Of course. That was the only way it could possibly make sense. After all, he didn't really have any redeeming qualities other than his looks. But Chiaro had never struck him as the type. Not even slightly. However, if he was, that made things so much simpler. Cesare would know exactly how to keep Chiaro; he could play the part of a lover to perfection. And yet… Cesare couldn't help feeling disappointed. He'd really hoped Chiaro liked him for himself, not… but that was impossible. Cesare knew it was impossible. How could he find out for sure?

"Cesare?"

Cesare turned around to see Chiaro come in. He smiled. "You're back."

"Yes. I was looking for you. You're supposed to meet with the Spanish ambassador tonight, you know." He casually put an arm around Cesare's shoulders.

Cesare looked at him curiously. "I know." Suddenly he had an idea for how to test his new theory. He pulled away, but put a hand on Chiaro's shoulder. He began to slowly lean toward him.

For a moment, Chiaro stood still, looking confused, but then he suddenly jerked back, just before Cesare would have gotten close enough to kiss him. "What are you doing?" he asked, looking more than a little alarmed.

Cesare pulled back. "Hmm." So Chiaro _wasn't_ in love with him. He gave a small, frustrated sigh that his simple, workable explanation had turned out to be incorrect, even if that explanation hadn't exactly been the one he wanted. What _was_ it then? "Nothing," he said, letting go of Chiaro's shoulder and looking out the window.

Chiaro stood still for a moment. "You weren't… going to…."

"Your eyes were bloodshot. I was checking to make sure you weren't sick." How could Chiaro be this loyal to him without even being physically attracted to him? He completely failed to see what Chiaro was attracted to instead. Was it his charisma? It didn't seem to be.

"Oh." Chiaro sounded a little doubtful. "Am I?"

"No. Just tired. You should get more sleep." He turned back to Chiaro, studying him. No, it couldn't be his charisma—Chiaro always saw straight through it. Was it his intelligence? That might merit admiration, but affection? But Cesare didn't delude himself—apart from his looks, his charisma, and his intelligence, there was nothing attractive about him.

Chiaro shifted, clearly uncomfortable with being stared at. "Are you… upset?"

Cesare smiled a little at his worried expression. "Do I look upset?"

"Sort of."

Cesare shook his head. "I'm just confused. You're a very perplexing person."

Chiaro blinked. "I am?"

"I had a theory for your recent behavior, but I was wrong, so I'm at a loss again."

There was a pause. "I've been… acting oddly… so you thought I was sick?"

Cesare grinned and laughed a little. "Exactly. As it turns out, you're just weird."

Chiaro blinked again, looking like he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be offended.

"Come on, let's have something for dinner. I can never eat much during official meals."

His friend gave a long-suffering sigh and followed him.


	4. Safe

**Chapter 4: Safe**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Cantarella. Cantarella is the property of Yuu Higuri. Does anyone know if I have to put a disclaimer in every single chapter?**

**A/N: I'm pretty much not following the manga storyline anymore. Sorry. I will attempt to keep the characters reasonably in character… except, you know, for Cesare not being in love with Chiaro.**

_Chiaro!_ Chiaro woke at the sound of Cesare's voice in his mind and sat straight up in bed. It wasn't a nightmare. Cesare sounded awake. In some part of Chiaro's mind, he sensed a dark presence quite close. _Oh no_. He leapt out of bed, grabbing his sword, though what use his sword would be against the devil he had no idea. "Cesare?" he called softly through the house, wondering if he should shout and risk waking everyone up. Cesare wasn't in his room. Where was he? He followed the source of the darkness until he came to a side room, where Cesare, surrounded by demons, was standing near the fireplace with his head in his hands.

"Cesare?"

Cesare turned to him, eyes flickering between gold and obsidian, shining with desperation. "Chiaro…." He started toward him then stopped, looking confused. Chiaro dropped his sword, rushed forward, and hugged Cesare without even thinking.

…

Cesare gasped as Chiaro's light suddenly invaded his darkness, and grasped the back of his shirt desperately. He began to breathe hard, releasing tension he hadn't been aware of holding. At last he slowly relaxed, though he still held on to Chiaro. They couldn't torment him as long as Chiaro was here. Cesare closed his eyes. Safe. All was safe.

Only very slowly did it occur to him that it was past three in the morning and Chiaro ought to be asleep. "Thank you. Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked, slowly letting go but still holding on to Chiaro's arms.

"You needed me," Chiaro replied. His eyes were warm, gentle, and worried. "So I came."

"How did you know?"

"I heard you. In my mind…."

Cesare sighed and looked down. "Not again. I'm sorry for waking you."

"It's fine, I'm glad you did."

Cesare looked back up. He was? Why?

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. They're bad tonight… I couldn't sleep. I thought maybe I could distract myself… but it didn't work."

"Distract yourself?"

Cesare let go of him entirely and walked over to the couch where he'd been sitting and picked up the French philosophy book he'd thrown down in frustration. "This," he said. "I was practicing my French."

"Aren't you fluent in French?"

"Writing it, yes. But not speaking it."

"Then what good will reading it do you?"

Cesare sat down, giving Chiaro a look. "I wasn't trying to be logical about it. I was trying to distract myself from the demons."

"Why didn't you just wake me up?"

"I _did_, apparently."

"I meant sooner."

Cesare sighed and looked away, his face warm. "I'm not going to go to you like a small child waking his parents after he has a nightmare. I do have a sense of pride, you know."

He heard Chiaro step closer and looked around. With a slightly teasing smile, Chiaro sat beside him and put an arm around him. "You are so stubborn," he said. "If you want me to keep away the demons, why do you keep walking away every time I touch you?"

Cesare didn't answer. He didn't know what to do. _Escape_. He looked away from Chiaro at the demons hanging back. Images flashed in his mind, as well as sounds, like the dark wings outside the window. Shuddering, he leaned against Chiaro's shoulder, covering his face with his hand. He was much more afraid of the demons, and his angel would protect him.

"There you go," Chiaro said softly. He moved Cesare's hand from his face and smoothed the hair back from his forehead, stroking it. Cesare closed his eyes. Safe. Chiaro was safe. But his heartbeat kicked up again when Chiaro suddenly leaned into the corner of the couch, pulling on him. Startled, Cesare sat up.

"What's wrong?" Chiaro asked, sitting back up.

Cesare said nothing, unsure what to reply. Chiaro wasn't in love with him. He'd already figured that out. So what was he doing?

"Here, let me hold you," Chiaro said putting his arm around Cesare again, and acting like what he was saying was no big deal. "It will keep them away."

Slowly, Cesare allowed Chiaro to draw him back against the corner of the couch and put his other arm around him.

"Relax," Chiaro said.

"But…." Why was Chiaro acting like this? _Escape._ He didn't want to show weakness by admitting how much he wanted this. Not to Chiaro or anyone.

"Cesare, _relax_," Chiaro insisted. "It's okay."

Cesare breathed deeply and let it out slowly. It _was_ okay. It was okay. He didn't need to escape, because Chiaro was safe. He slowly relaxed and closed his eyes. Why had he been so difficult? This was… wonderful. Like being wrapped in a warm blanket woven from light. It was like when Vanozza had held him as a child, reading to him. Cesare put out a hand to touch Chiaro's arm.

"You like this?"

"Yes," Cesare whispered, his voice a little more fervent than he'd meant it to be. _I love you. Please don't let go._

"Good. I thought you would."

If Chiaro stayed long enough, maybe he could even sleep a little. The thought of sleeping in Chiaro's peaceful embrace was very, very nice. But it wasn't something his pride would let him ask for, even with Chiaro sitting here and holding him. Chiaro would probably think he was strange. Well, strang_er_ than being possessed by demons already made him.

"Why don't you go to sleep?" Chiaro asked. "You can probably sleep easier if they're not bothering you, right?"

Cesare opened his eyes. Had Chiaro somehow learned how to read his mind? He closed them again. So tempting. "No," he said, smiling a little. "You'd be stiff in the morning."

"I don't care."

Cesare shook his head, wondering why his voice and his body seemed directly opposed to everything he wanted, and why Chiaro always wanted him to sleep.

"Well, at least let me stay a while," Chiaro said. "Give you a break."

"All right."

"My mother was French," Chiaro said in French, taking Cesare by surprise. He continued, still speaking the language at a moderate pace. "I learned to speak French from her. I still remember it well. Shall I help you?"

Cesare considered, still closing his eyes. Practicing French with Chiaro meant Chiaro would stay. But Chiaro should probably also go to bed. Strange how loving someone suddenly made you worry about them. "Don't you need to sleep?" he asked.

"No," he said, then switched to French. "I will not be able to sleep if I'm worried about you."

"Then I will practice with you," Cesare said in broken French. "Where was your mother from?"

"Paris. She married my father a very long time ago."

"Is she still alive?"

"No, she died when I was six."

Cesare frowned. Why had it only now occurred to him that Chiaro had lost the last of his family at the age of seventeen? "I'm sorry," he said, the words coming much easier to him in French than they ever had in Italian.

"It's all right. I don't really remember her very well."

"But that means… you have no family."

"Of course I do," Chiaro said, his voice smiling. "I have you."

Cesare felt his face grow warm. He didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry," Chiaro said, still speaking French. "Is that bad?"

"No," Cesare replied. "It's good. How is my pronunciation?"

"I can hear that you are not French," Chiaro said, smiling and still speaking French. "But I do not think many Frenchmen would be offended by your pronunciation. I think you are better than you think." He rubbed Cesare's back. "You really should sleep."

"I don't want to," Cesare replied, beginning to be exhausted with this French conversation. "I want you… to keep holding me." He opened his eyes. Had he really just said that? Did the French language somehow loosen his tongue?

"All right," Chiaro said, hugging him a little tighter. He switched to Italian. "You know, every time I hug you, you hold on like you want me to hold you, and then you pull away. I can never figure out what I'm supposed to do."

Cesare didn't reply. What was he supposed to say? He loved being held, but he hated feeling vulnerable. Even now, sitting here and leaning into Chiaro's arms was wonderful but frightening. He was completely defenseless, no guard at all, like he had been just before Marrone… but he had nothing to worry about. Chiaro was _not_ Marrone. And besides, he'd dropped his sword on the other side of the room. And Chiaro was probably safe, unless he decided that he had to kill Cesare to save him. Which he did, eventually. Cesare had no delusions about that. Any efforts on Chiaro's part or his own only postponed the inevitable. But hopefully the inevitable could be postponed for quite a long time. There would be no Chiaro in hell. And he was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to love in hell either.

Several minutes passed, and at last Chiaro said again, "Really, Cesare, you should sleep. You'll be exhausted in the morning, and I'll end up falling asleep here."

Cesare frowned. "But…." He tried to think of some excuse for why Chiaro should stay.

"Come on," Chiaro said, getting to his feet and taking Cesare with him. Cesare moaned a little. "Don't whine. I'll stay with you until you fall asleep."

Cesare straightened, irritated that his weakness was showing through this much. "I'm not a child. You know, you're only two years older than me." He walked away from Chiaro, trying to swat away the demons that began to circle around him as soon as he was away from Chiaro's light. He went to his bedroom and lay down, hiding his face in the pillow so he didn't have to see them. Presently he felt a hand on his head, stroking his hair, and the demons faded into the light. He didn't say anything as Chiaro began to rub his back, but he felt himself relax.

…..

Chiaro felt his friend relax under his hand. Why had Cesare gotten angry all of a sudden? Only a few moments earlier, he'd been practically snuggling with him. Chiaro had seen the evil spirits descend on his master only seconds after he walked away. They were getting worse lately, and Chiaro had figured out when Cesare had destroyed his room and ran to cling to him that Cesare now needed him to be a bit more forefront about keeping the demons away. But for whatever reason, Cesare kept pulling away, like he was afraid of something. And then the demons would come back, probably mocking him all the more. Chiaro never knew whether to chase him or not, and he hated seeing the cloud descend on his master. Even now, he could see them just holding back. He glared at them, feeling a sudden wave of anger. _Bastards. You can't have him! I won't let you!_

"Chiaro?" Cesare murmured.

"Hmm?"

"You're angry."

"Yeah, because they won't leave you alone."

Cesare looked at him quizzically. "Of course not. They're part of me."

Chiaro glared at the demons then instinctively slipped into the bed beside Cesare and started to pull him close. He felt Cesare stiffen in surprise and pull away, sitting up. "What are you doing?" Cesare asked, sounding alarmed.

Chiaro paused, suddenly remembering that since Cesare was actually _awake_ this time, he might feel awkward about Chiaro sleeping so close to him. "Oh… would you rather I not? I was just thinking it might help you sleep if I kept them away for you. And I won't get stiff this way…."

…

Cesare stared at Chiaro. The thought that Chiaro wanted anything more than to hold him while he slept barely crossed his mind. But that was enough to shock him. Was Chiaro really offering to wrap him in that blanket of light for the entire night? But… this required Cesare to have his guard down for the entire night. He tried to think. Why was Chiaro always trying to get him to go to sleep with his guard down? Wasn't that a little strange?

"Um… I won't if you don't want me to," Chiaro said, looking embarrassed. "I didn't mean anything weird by it, you know."

Cesare smiled just a little, Chiaro's embarrassment putting him a little more at ease. But still… he looked at Chiaro's sword, which was on the bedside table, sheathed. His sword had been on the other side of the room before, when they were on the couch, but now… oh, this was ridiculous. Why was he always so afraid now that Chiaro would kill him or betray him? Chiaro had given him no reason to think he would. Was it just because he couldn't imagine Chiaro being so kind to him without some sort of sinister motive?

"Hey… um… I'm sorry…." Chiaro started to get up, but Cesare caught his wrist, so he stopped. "Does that mean you want me to stay?" Cesare didn't reply. "Cesare, are you okay?" He looked so worried and confused. A little like Vanozza, actually, with that light that always seemed to be reaching for him, welcoming him. Had Vanozza loved him? Did Chiaro love him? Perhaps Chiaro ought to be categorized with Vanozza rather than Marrone. As someone who could maybe, possibly love him, in spite of everything. Someone with whom Cesare could surrender control, and relax, and rest.

"Why are you staring at me?" Chiaro asked, looking like he had no idea what to do. "Do you want me to stay or not? I mean… I'm not trying to seduce you or anything."

The words took a second to register. When they did, Cesare blinked a few times, then suddenly started laughing. He laughed hysterically until he was gasping for breath and his stomach hurt. At last he managed to catch his breath, but he only started laughing again. "_Seduce_ me?" he asked, almost choking with laughter. "_You_? That's the _last_ thing I'd ever worry about." He collapsed into laughter again.

"Cesare, you're really starting to concern me. I think you're overtired."

Cesare took deep breaths so he could stop. "Yes," he said, still laughing a little. "You're probably right." Was _that_ why Chiaro was always trying to make him sleep? Because he was always exhausted? He covered his face with his hand, and a moment later felt Chiaro's hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Chiaro asked gently. He seemed to be asking that a lot lately.

Cesare looked up, smiling weakly. "Of course… my seductive little assassin." He slid his arms up around Chiaro's neck and pulled him close, breathing in his light. He had nothing to fear from his angel, even if he was rather an idiot. "Stay," he said. "I want to sleep with you."

"Okay…." Chiaro started to lie down. "Just like… me holding you, right?"

Cesare laughed again, leaning into Chiaro. "Yes." He could trust Chiaro. Not only to not hurt him, but also to protect him. He slowly slid down and relaxed in his angel's arms, feeling a wave of sweet, peaceful exhaustion. He blinked his eyes against the moisture that only Chiaro seemed to be able to elicit. He hadn't known this kind of peace still existed, apart from occasional mornings when he'd inexplicably wake up with no memory of nightmares, like he'd been sheltered from the demons all night. Odd, really. Did they just get bored occasionally? He dismissed the matter and breathed in Chiaro's scent. Leather and something spicy, like a mixture of anise, lavender and vanilla. Incense, Cesare realized. From standing in the back of the chapel when Cesare met with dignitaries. His scent was wonderfully familiar for some reason and oddly reassuring.

"Is this really okay?" Chiaro asked him. "Not too awkward?"

Cesare almost laughed again. Chiaro worried about such _stupid_ things. "I may," he whispered, "become addicted to the feeling." He nestled a little more into Chiaro's shoulder and let sleep take him.


	5. Confession

**Chapter 5: Confession**

**Disclaimer: I think you get it by now.**

**A/N: This is a really long chapter, so it might be a week or so before I update again. Sorry about that. Thanks for the reviews so far! You guys are a big encouragement.**

Chiaro woke up with the dawn and was about to get up before Cesare woke until he remembered Cesare knew he was here already. He smiled a little and looked down at the expression of complete peace and serenity on his friend's face. Cesare only ever looked like this when Chiaro held him.

So, Cesare was okay with this. Thank goodness. Perhaps if he did this on a regular basis, he could stop the demons indefinitely. He could also make it a point to hug Cesare often, if Cesare really didn't mind. Really, all he had to do was stop stifling the impulse to hug Cesare that overtook him half a dozen times a day, at least. The problem was, it often came at inappropriate times, like when he was standing in a corner of the Sistine Chapel while Cesare was talking to his father.

Cesare stirred, and the hand that lightly clutched Chiaro's shirt reached around, hugging him. Cesare smiled. "You stayed."

"I told you I would," Chiaro said. "How do you feel?"

Cesare kept his eyes closed. "I was wondering… if this is what heaven feels like. To be in the arms of your guardian angel. And thinking that if it is, maybe I lost interest in heaven too soon, not that I ever had a chance of going. So, my heaven is here."

Chiaro felt himself blushing. He never knew quite what to say when Cesare called him his guardian angel. "You don't know that," he said. "God is merciful."

"It would be difficult to redeem a demoniac, don't you think?" Cesare asked. "Besides, I have no intention of giving up my designs, and I don't think He would approve."

Chiaro sighed. "I want to be your angel. I would take you with me into heaven."

Cesare shook his head. "All you can do is bring heaven a little closer to me, like now, and that's enough."

"Aren't you worried about what will happen when you die?"

Cesare smiled, but his smile was tight. "I try not to think about it."

Chiaro let the matter rest for now and rubbed his friend's back. Cesare's breathing became slow and smooth. "You know," he said after a while, "I will have to get up eventually. I'm supposed to go and see my father today… and get an update on France." His voice held absolutely no motivation.

Chiaro raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. "You can get up whenever you want."

Cesare smiled. "I'm not very inclined to do so when you're holding me like this. You hardly do this on a regular basis, you know."

Chiaro almost laughed. If he only knew. "I could."

Cesare looked up, meeting Chiaro's gaze with raised eyebrows and an amused smile. But Chiaro had already had him pass off something he actually wanted as a joke—several times—and he wasn't buying it. "Would you, though?" Cesare asked, still teasing with his eyebrows. "You like me that much?"

"Yes, and yes."

Cesare leaned back against his shoulder, still smiling. "You're sweet," he said. "But Volpe would wonder, you know."

Chiaro made a face. "Volpe," he said, making it sound like a curse. "I don't care what he thinks. Do you?"

Cesare began to shake with laughter. "It's very amusing to watch you two vie for my good graces like a couple of cocks. Especially you. I can understand why he's jealous of you, but do you honestly think I like him more?"

Chiaro didn't say anything. It was impossible to tell if Cesare even liked him at all, and Volpe was older with more experience. Cesare would "like" whoever was most useful, and it seemed like the only thing that put Chiaro ahead of Volpe was his ability to drive off the demons.

Cesare looked up again, looking concerned. He smiled a little when he saw Chiaro's face. "Chiaro," he said, his tone gently teasing, "you're being silly. I spend much more time with you, you know."

"Because I can send away the demons, and he can't," Chiaro said. "But he's… more valuable than I am in a lot of other ways."

There was a pause, and then Cesare spoke again, his tone still teasing a little, but more serious than before. "Chiaro, no one could replace you. Certainly not Volpe; he isn't even my friend, not like you are. Not even Vanozza, who could also drive away the demons. It is very useful to have two men, and you can't do everything, and Volpe is a valuable retainer with a great deal of experience."

"He wants to be your right-hand man," Chiaro said.

"I know that. But he'll have to settle for left. It is helpful to have two hands, you know."

Chiaro sighed and looked away, making a face at himself. He really was being silly.

"Listen," Cesare said. "Volpe would do almost anything for me. The man is half in love with me and admires everything about me, especially my demonic powers. He will guard my life and my goals, even if it means giving his life. That attitude is extremely useful. You, on the other hand, are my closest friend. You allow me to confide in you and act my age, and you drive the darkness away when it becomes too much. You will guard my soul and my dreams, even if it means killing me before I become a monster I can no longer control, and…." Cesare paused, then looked up at Chiaro. He hesitated for a long moment, then leaned his head back down. "And I love you for it."

Chiaro looked down at Cesare's unusually serious smiling face. "Really?" Cesare actually loved him? It didn't seem like something he'd joke about.

Cesare nodded against his shoulder. "So don't be jealous of Volpe. I have a hard enough time trying to keep him happy when he's so jealous of you. He also worries that I trust you too much, because you're much more emotional than he is and it makes him nervous. Really, he's too much like me."

"You know," Chiaro said, "I would give my life for you too."

"I know. I figured that went without saying. I don't want you to, though. If you die, I lose all hope of remaining human."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Did you mean it when you said you'd do this again?"

"Yes, of course. Anytime you want."

"I won't ask."

Chiaro blinked, then rolled his eyes. "Then I'll keep an eye on you and just come when I think you need me. You know, you _could_ ask."

"Yes," Cesare said, sitting up, "but it doesn't exactly suit a world conqueror to ask his friend to hold him and drive off the nightmares."

"I promise I won't tell the King of France."

Cesare smirked at him.

"And I already know you want me to, so you hardly need to worry about my opinion."

Cesare leaned over and rubbed his head against Chiaro's shoulder, giving him a catlike smile before straightening and getting out of bed. "I suppose I'll have to wear the ridiculous hat again," he said, smiling at Chiaro and looking almost cheerful. "Look, they're leaving me alone for right now. They must have gotten bored waiting for you to leave." He put on his robe and twirled around, making it fly. Chiaro laughed, grinning at his friend's sudden energy. "Come with me," he said. "Go get dressed."

"All right." Chiaro left the room, still smiling. He nearly ran into Volpe, who looked surprised to see him.

"Chiaro. Is Master Cesare up yet?"

"Yes. And he's in a good mood." _And he likes me better than you._

"Really? He didn't seem to be last night." He continued on to Cesare's room, and Chiaro grinned. Because Cesare was in a good mood because of him.

….

Cesare adjusted his stupid looking hat, ignoring the evil spirits that had returned but weren't really tormenting him at the moment. Chiaro had held him for the entire night and had said he would in the future. Just the thought made him feel ecstatic. There was a knock at the door. "Come in."

The door opened and Volpe came in. Cesare regained his composure but kept his good humor. "Good morning, Tagio."

Volpe raised his eyebrows. "He's right, you are in a good mood."

"It does happen," Cesare said with a smile. "Are we joining my father for breakfast?"

…..

Chiaro sighed. Cesare's good humor hadn't lasted, and he really wished he could be sitting beside Cesare right now instead of on the other side of the room with Volpe. The demons were always particularly awful when Cesare was with his father, and although Cesare always remained the picture of polite attention, Chiaro could tell he never liked these audiences. He could only imagine the painful memories. Which Cesare denied, of course, but Chiaro saw through that. He shifted his weight, wanting to go over and put an arm around Cesare at least, but it would have to wait. In the meantime, he tried to listen to this conference, knowing Cesare would probably quiz him on it later and tease him if he didn't remember everything. But finally, the meeting was finished, and Cesare left the room with a slight glance at Chiaro and Volpe to indicate that they should follow.

They were both quickly by his side, and Chiaro glanced at Volpe, who was as always the picture of professional aloofness. Did he always have to act so perfect? Chiaro sighed a little, rolling his eyes. This was not missed on Cesare, who turned to look at him with a knowing look, the edge of his mouth turning up. Quick as a flash, Chiaro stuck his tongue out at Cesare, whose eyebrows shot up. Chiaro was pleased to see a grin spread across his master's face, although it earned him a glare from Volpe. _Yeah, yeah, get mad at him for acting his age all you want. You're just jealous._

At length, they were far enough away from the throne room of the Vatican that Chiaro figured he could get away with being a little affectionate, so he closed the distance between himself and Cesare and put an arm around his shoulders, pleased to see the demons run screaming. Cesare turned to him with raised eyebrows and an amused smile. "Feeling clingy, Chiaro?"

"Maybe a little," Chiaro replied. "So what's on the agenda today? Lunch at any point?" He noticed that Cesare hadn't actually shaken him off.

"We are supposed to dine with the Lord of Pesaro," Volpe said, pointedly ignoring their childish behavior.

"Him again?" Chiaro asked, causing Cesare to grin yet again.

"Now, now, Chiaro, you can't always have me all to yourself," Cesare said, smiling at him. "I'm a busy man. Conquering the world takes quite a lot of work, you know."

"Lord Cesare, you do realize that if anyone sees you acting like this, he is unlikely to take you as seriously," Volpe said.

"Acting like what?" Cesare asked. "I'm serious."

"Acting like a youth."

"He _is_ a youth," Chiaro said, earning another glare from Volpe.

"I'll work on it," Cesare replied. "Chiaro, you're making me feel a little giddy; perhaps we should settle for linking arms?"

…

Cesare was beginning to wonder if he _was_ going to become addicted to Chiaro. His friend seemed to be watching him like a hawk today, hardly letting the demons get near him, and the level of freedom Cesare had from them truly was making him feel giddy and almost drunk. The touching was rather nice, too, even when it was nothing more than a hand on his shoulder.

"Cesare." Chiaro came and put a hand on his back. "It's midnight. You should sleep."

"I need to finish this letter first," Cesare replied, penning another line.

"Then you'll sleep?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, right." Cesare glanced around to see Chiaro rolling his eyes. He removed his hand from Cesare's back and stretched. "Well, _I'm _going to bed. Unlike you, I actually believe in sleeping at night."

Cesare felt his smile fade as he watched Chiaro start to walk away. Well, Chiaro hadn't said he would sleep with Cesare tonight, and Cesare hadn't asked. There was no reason to expect it. He sighed a little, and Chiaro's footsteps stopped. Cesare looked up to see that his friend was looking at him thoughtfully. Suddenly Chiaro smiled a little. "I'll share a bed with you again like last night if you want."

Cesare smiled and looked teasingly at Chiaro. "Really?" he asked. "My goodness, Chiaro, for the second night in a row? You really must be quite fond of me." There he went again. Why could ne never stop himself from turning everything into a joke? He watched Chiaro raise an eyebrow and step back over to him. "Are you lonely when I'm not around?" he asked, still teasing. "Can't even bear to be parted from me while you sleep, can you?"

"Should I take that as a yes?" Chiaro asked with a long-suffering expression on his face.

"Oh, certainly, if you want to that badly, I wouldn't deny you."

"Well, I'm not going to wait all night. So finish your letter and come to bed. You hardly slept at all last night."

"I made up in quality for what I lacked in quantity," Cesare replied, penning another line. "Give me five minutes." He finished his letter, trying not to get distracted by Chiaro standing infuriatingly just out of range to drive off the demons. He glanced suspiciously at Chiaro, beginning to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.

"What?" Chiaro asked, suddenly grinning. "Are you ready to go to sleep?"

"You are incorrigible."

"I'm also good at making you go to bed," Chiaro said, putting an arm around Cesare now that he'd stood up. "So give your plans for world domination a short rest, will you?" They went to Cesare's room and Chiaro stretched out in his bed, waiting for him to change. Cesare did so, feeling apprehensive again for some reason. Was this really all right? He'd convinced himself that it wasn't allowed, and here Chiaro didn't even mind. But he didn't deserve it. And really, it was very odd that Chiaro was willing to do this. Most normal men did not like snuggling with other men. Cesare did, but he would have been the first to admit that he was definitely not a normal man. It was hard to get more abnormal than being part demon. But there was nothing wrong with Chiaro, and Cesare did believe him when he said he wasn't in love with him. But _why_ then?

"Cesare?"

Cesare turned.

"Would you stop worrying about France and sleep?"

"I'm not worrying about France."

"Well, you're worrying about _something_."

Cesare shrugged and finished dressing, then climbed into bed, very hesitantly going close so Chiaro could hold him.

"Hey," Chiaro said, rubbing his back. "Are you okay?"

Cesare closed his eyes, soaking in the light, then opened them. "Chiaro… you don't… really miss me when you're sleeping, do you?"

"What?" Chiaro began to shake with laughter. "Cesare, go to sleep."

Cesare lifted himself and met Chiaro's eyes. "I'm serious."

Chiaro raised his eyebrows. "Well, no, not when I'm sleeping, because then I'm _asleep_…." He paused. "Though sometimes, if I wake up…."

Cesare frowned, unconvinced. _I miss _you_._ He looked away and sat up, not knowing how to feel. _Escape_. He sighed. He didn't want to escape. He was finally starting to become comfortable with Chiaro's affection, but Chiaro himself was just so damnably confusing.

"I do miss you when you're gone for a while and I'm awake," Chiaro said, sitting up as well. "Cesare? I'm not trying to hurt your feelings…." He sounded concerned and a little surprised.

Cesare turned and looked at him. "Then why are you doing this?"

Chiaro blinked. "Uh…."

"I mean… you're not getting anything out of it, so why?"

Chiaro blinked a few more times. "Because," he said at last.

Cesare cocked an eyebrow.

"I like hugging you."

"Why?"

Chiaro smiled a little, looking confused. "Um… because I do."

"But…." Cesare was beginning to feel a little embarrassed. He couldn't figure out what he was trying to say, and nothing Chiaro was saying made any sense. "But I didn't ask you to. And you don't have to. You never did this befo…." Cesare trailed off, and suddenly met Chiaro's eyes. _"Though sometimes, if I wake up…."_ How many times had Cesare woken Chiaro by unconsciously calling for him when the demons attacked? He knew Chiaro would come and hold him when the demons attacked sometimes, but it always felt the next morning like he had been sheltered the entire night. And then there was Chiaro last night, climbing into Cesare's bed to hold him (which all things considered was really rather shocking; had Chiaro been anyone else, Cesare would have been furious at the presumption) as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Like he did it all the time.

"Why are you staring at me?" Chiaro asked, looking a little worried.

"You _have_ done this before."

"Yeah, last night."

"I mean before that."

Chiaro opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

Cesare stared. "But when? I don't remember… but I know you have, because…."

Chiaro shrugged a little, looking away from Cesare's gaze. "Are you angry?"

"No." He was completely confused, though. He'd been wondering before why Chiaro never held him. Apparently he _had_—had actually gone so far as to come into his bed and hold him while he slept—but hadn't bothered to inform Cesare.

"It was just sometimes," Chiaro said. "When the nightmares were really bad."

"Since when?" Chiaro was downplaying; Cesare woke up with that peaceful feeling at least once a week these days.

"Well, since we met."

Cesare continued to stare, then started, remembering the first time he'd woken up without the demons, and Chiaro had asked to be friends that morning. He'd suspected at the time, but he'd forgotten about it since.

"The first time was kind of an accident," Chiaro said, shrugging again. "I just figured I'd sleep next to you, since it seemed like that would keep the demons away, but you… well, you apparently wanted to be closer."

"You still stayed?"

Chiaro smiled a little. "You, um… wouldn't let go. And then you looked… you know, like you were actually at peace… so I finally figured, why not?"

"But you kept it up? Didn't you feel awkward?"

"Well… yeah, but I got over it eventually. I mean, we're talking about five years ago."

Cesare said nothing, not knowing how to feel.

"I'd just… come in and rub your back until you'd calm down, and if they still wouldn't leave you alone after, I'd hold you, and I'd just leave before you woke up."

"Why?"

"I thought you might be embarrassed."

"No, I meant… why would you do that?"

"I wanted to protect you." He paused. "Was that… wrong?"

"But how?" Cesare asked. "I would have woken up."

Chiaro shook his head. "You never wake up when I touch you, unless I'm _trying_ to wake you. Anyone else touches you and you're awake immediately, but not me for some reason. Maybe you thought I was…." Chiaro broke off, obviously before he was about to say Vanozza's name.

Cesare thought about this and pondered its implications. "Never?"

"Not usually. Sometimes for a minute or two, but you never remember."

Suddenly he had an explanation now for all those times he'd fallen asleep sitting by the fire or at his desk or on the sofa, unable to really go to bed because the demons were too bad, and woken up in the morning in his own bed, having dreamed of light and peace, with the inexplicable feeling that he'd been touched by an angel. Apparently he had. So many nights, he'd tossed and turned until he'd worn himself out, then woken up feeling like someone had come and sent the demons away and that they were only now coming back, disoriented and annoyed at being cast however temporarily from their place of residence. His angel had been caring for him, comforting him, all this time… and he hadn't even known. "I wish you'd told me," he said at last. "But thank you."

"Sorry; I just thought you might feel weird about it. But I mean, it's not a big deal. You're my best friend. I hate to see you suffer." He smiled. "And there's something about you that makes me want to chase your nightmares away and make your dreams come true. Call it a knight complex." He put a hand on Cesare's back. "You should go to sleep."

Still somewhat dazed, Cesare lay back into Chiaro's arms. He felt himself relax.

Chiaro rubbed his shoulders. "And don't worry so much. I like seeing them run screaming. This way I get to keep them away all night."

Cesare smiled a little, but it faded. "It just… feels so one-sided."

"Huh?"

"You're always doing things for me, and I never do anything for you." This hadn't bothered him until very recently, but now it did.

"Cesare." His voice was gentle, and Cesare looked up to meet his eyes. Instinctively, he felt his hand clench around Chiaro's shirt. How on earth could his angel look at him with that much love? He looked away, burying his face in the hollow of Chiaro's shoulder. It was too good for him. All of this was too good for him. "It's true, though," he said softly.

Chiaro sighed. "If you're still worried about this in the morning, I'll tell you then…" he yawned "…all about why I'm glad I have you. But can we sleep for now?"

"Yes." Chiaro was tired. It wasn't fair to keep him up worrying. Cesare closed his eyes, feeling unexpected moisture build behind them. He blinked a few times. Why was he crying? Why couldn't he stop? He closed his eyes again, but the tears continued, and when he drew in a breath, it shook.

"Cesare?" Chiaro suddenly sounded much more awake. He hugged Cesare tighter. "What's wrong?"

Cesare wondered if he really ought to leave rather than let Chiaro see him cry like this. But somehow, he just didn't have the energy. "I don't know," he said. "I don't understand." This was too much. This kind of love and devotion could not possibly be for him, because he didn't deserve it. It was like he had somehow crossed into the wrong story. The plotline of his life involved a race to take over the world before the demons took over his soul. The love of an angel didn't belong in a story like that, no matter how desperately he wished for it. He had no right to claim it. At the very least, it would have to be paid for, and he had no way to pay.

Cesare's thoughts were suddenly arrested by Chiaro's fingers through his hair, stroking his head, gliding over his neck and down his back. It felt so good that everything else was forcibly driven from Cesare's mind. He closed his eyes, aware of almost nothing else. Did Chiaro realize how good this felt?

"There," Chiaro whispered. "Go to sleep. Everything's all right." His fingers opened and closed, weaving through Cesare's hair, making small circles on his back. There seemed to be a message in the pattern of Chiaro's weaving. _You belong in _this_ story. You belong with me. _Absurd. Ridiculous. Cesare knew it was ridiculous. But that didn't matter right now, because right now was light and peace and warmth and love and gentle fingers, and even Heaven couldn't possibly be sweeter than this. Cesare wanted to stay awake and enjoy it longer, but he couldn't help drifting off to sleep within minutes.


	6. Angel

**Chapter 6: A Beautiful Angel in an Ugly World**

**A/N: By the way, I actually have no idea if Chiaro went to school with Cesare; the manga says absolutely nothing about what happened between them meeting and Pope Innocent dying (which is really very frustrating), but I figured it made sense. **

**A/N 2: Sorry this chapter is kind of short; I've been really busy lately.**

Cesare woke up, surprised again by the complete lack of demons surrounding him. He was actually free to pay attention to just how nice it was to be resting in someone's arms. But unfortunately, his thoughts from the night before _hadn't_ just gone away, in spite of Chiaro comforting him.

Chiaro. People like him really ought not to have been born into this ugly world, unless it was for the purpose of helping people like Cesare. Cesare wondered if it was a mark of profound ingratitude that his actions were currently only making the world uglier. Italy might be better off united in the end, but Cesare would do a great deal of damage in order to get there. And he would use Chiaro to cause at least some of that damage.

Cesare sighed, disgusted with himself, and sat up slowly, trying not to disturb his friend. Chiaro was too good for him. The type of person who _ought_ to be attracted to Cesare was someone like Volpe, who was as ruthless as himself. But the one Cesare loved was Chiaro, if he could really call this grasping, possessive, twisted feeling for his friend "love." But he didn't know what else to call it.

"Cesare?" Chiaro opened his eyes and blinked at him.

"Sorry," Cesare said. "I was trying not to wake you up."

"No… it's fine," Chiaro replied sleepily. "Are you okay?"

Why did he keep asking that? "Of course."

"You're feeling better, then?"

"Feeling better?" Cesare asked, pretending to be confused. Had he really cried last night?

"Yeah, last night…." Chiaro stopped, then shook his head. "Whatever." To Cesare's surprise, Chiaro hugged him around the shoulders from behind. "Why do you always act like this? I like you. You can confide in me, you know."

"I'm fine," Cesare said, pulling away a little so he could turn and look at Chiaro. "I just don't understand why someone like you would be so attached to me."

"Lots of reasons," Chiaro said. "For one thing, I'm grateful."

He said it so matter-of-factly that for a second Cesare could only stare at him. "Grateful?" he asked at last, incredulous.

Chiaro gave a laugh. "Of course. You offered me a place when I had nowhere to go. My father was dead, and I'd been living on petty theft, and then suddenly you were there, and you made me your right hand man and even became my best friend. I was happy—still am. I have to admit, I thought it was kind of funny that you thought you were punishing me by taking me prisoner."

Cesare continued to stare, now feeling just a bit miffed. "You know, my motives were utterly selfish." _Still are, actually_.

"So? I didn't care. You were kind to me."

Cesare looked at some point on the bedspread. "Not really."

"You talked to me. You didn't mind me following you around. You even let me go to school with you. Do you have any idea how impossible that would have been if it weren't for you? I mean, I was a peasant."

"That wasn't kindness. I wanted you around because you made the demons go away." _And because I was lonely, and you'd offered to be my friend._

Chiaro smiled and shrugged a little. "I was selfish too. I was lonely. And you didn't send me away."

Cesare sighed and got up. He started to pace. "You were lonely, so you decided to become friends with a demoniac?"

Chiaro shrugged. "Have to admit, you needed a friend too."

Cesare turned and looked at him. "Don't you see that I've ruined your life? I've turned you into an assassin. You _hate_ killing people. You're the constant companion of a megalomaniac who isn't even human. How can you possibly be grateful for that?"

"Well, I'm not keen on the killing, but I don't mind being your constant companion. I told you, I like you."

"_Why_?" Cesare was really desperate to know this.

Chiaro spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I don't know, Cesare, I'd have to think about it. What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know." Cesare gave a sigh of frustration.

He heard Chiaro's quiet sigh behind him and turned to see that Chiaro had lain back in his bed and was staring at the ceiling. "Well, sorry I don't make sense to you. It's not like I'm doing it on purpose. What's wrong with just liking you because I like you?"

_Because you have no reason to,_ Cesare thought. _And I'm a little worried you'll realize that someday._ The nearest Cesare could imagine was that Chiaro's loyalty to him was like his own had been to his father, before he realized his father would never love him.

Then Cesare remembered Chiaro's father, who had been a mass murderer and a madman, locked up in a dungeon to keep him from killing people. Chiaro had been loyal to the point of absurdity. He stopped pacing, thinking about this. No, it was true. People like Chiaro really ought not to have been born into this ugly world. Cesare jumped as Chiaro's arm wrapped unexpectedly around him, drawing him into a hug. "Stop fussing," he said. "You worry too much about things, you know." He let go. "You should get dressed. We need to go have breakfast. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Cesare kept a corner of his mind open to watch Chiaro for the rest of that day. Was it his imagination, or was his friend actively seeking out his company more and more these days? And smiling more, too? In fact, it seemed like Chiaro was at his side for nearly the entire day, until around midnight when he disappeared. Cesare did run into Volpe, who was reading a political book. "Have you seen Chiaro?"

"I think he went to bed," Volpe replied, looking up briefly. "It is midnight. You should sleep too, Master Cesare."

Chiaro had gone to bed without him? Cesare sighed and rolled his eyes at his feelings as he walked away. Well, yes, of course. Chiaro was tired, so he'd gone to bed. Cesare had kept him up how late last night? And Chiaro had been going to bed by himself the entire time they'd lived together until the last two nights. It stood to reason that he would think nothing of it. And at some point, Cesare would have to get used to sleeping in spite of his demons again. After all, he could hardly expect Chiaro to sleep with him every night for the rest of his life. But in the meantime, he could get some more work done, since he didn't have Chiaro waiting on him.

He began reading up on politics in Spain and Portugal, finding himself absorbed in the subject. Before he knew it, he was already planning how he could use the information he was gaining to his advantage. Meanwhile, his demons gathered around him, making it rather difficult to breathe. Cesare pointedly ignored them.

…

Chiaro rolled over in his sleep and woke up. He looked around briefly for Cesare, then sighed and closed his eyes again. He remembered Cesare's joke about Chiaro missing him when he slept. Was this missing? Or just fussing? Because Chiaro knew he was definitely fussing. Was Cesare all right sleeping on his own? Were his demons bad tonight? Had he actually wanted Chiaro with him, but hadn't asked? Chiaro sighed. He was being silly. He would sense it if things were too bad. But even if they weren't too bad, Cesare might still want him.

Finally, Chiaro sighed and got out of bed. He'd go to Cesare's room, assure himself that his master was sleeping peacefully. If he wasn't, Chiaro would stay. Cesare wouldn't mind. He got up and checked the time. Half past two in the morning. Apparently he had caught Cesare's insomnia. He went out in the hall, walking softly to Cesare's room, then stopped when he saw the light on in the main room, and Cesare bent over a book. "What are you doing awake?" he asked from the doorway.

Cesare jumped. "Chiaro." There was a mass of demons around him.

"Yeah. What are you doing?" He went closer and shooed the demons away, pleased when he saw Cesare's posture relax.

"Studying. Spanish and Portuguese politics."

"It's almost three."

"Is it?"

"You should be in bed."

"I have things to do."

"You can do them tomorrow."

"No… I'm making… plans." Cesare's words seemed to fail as Chiaro began to stroke his hair and neck. He closed his eyes. "Don't… do that. I can't… think when you do that."

"You don't need to think. Come on." He pulled a much more compliant Cesare to his feet and put an arm around him.

"Where are we going?"

"To bed, since certain idiots seem to be incapable of going there themselves." He shook his head. "I'm beginning to wonder if I should just turn my room into some kind of library; it doesn't seem to be getting much use anymore."

He thought he saw Cesare smile, but it may have been his imagination. They went to Cesare's room and he sat on the edge of Cesare's bed, waiting for him to change, which he did remarkably quickly. This time, without any hesitation at all, he snuggled into Chiaro with a catlike smile, hugging him.

Chiaro gave a laugh. "You are so weird," he said, putting his arms around his friend. "Do you have a split personality or something?"

"Oh no, split implies two. I have a lot more than that."

"Apparently. What are you so happy about all of a sudden?"

"You," Cesare replied.

"Sleeping with you?"

Cesare shook his head. "Just you."

"I made you cry last night."

"No, you didn't."

Chiaro rolled his eyes. "That's right. You weren't crying."

"I was. But you didn't make me cry, I did."

"Oh."

"See, I have this crazy idea that I don't deserve you."

"Ah," Chiaro said, not buying the playful tone. He shook his head. "I kept waking up and expecting you to be there and worrying when you weren't."

Cesare began to shake a little with laughter. "You do miss me when you sleep."

"I guess so." He closed his eyes, rubbing Cesare's back. "You know, I really could just turn my room into a library and do this every night."

Cesare didn't respond, but his hand knotted into Chiaro's shirt. "Trouble is," he said at last, "if you do this often enough, I won't be able to sleep without you. I wasn't joking when I said I may become addicted to the feeling. Do you have any idea how good this feels?"

"I'm not planning on going anywhere, though. So I don't mind."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to say no."

Chiaro listened as Cesare's breathing became slow and even. He wondered if there was really any validity to Cesare's worry about not being able to sleep without him. As near as he could tell, Cesare had _never_ been able to sleep very well without him. He'd often wake up at the dog watch of the night and find Cesare tangled in his sheets, tossing and turning with nightmares, or sleeping restlessly on the couch, a book or letter nearby. In the latter case, Chiaro would simply carry him to bed, always marveling at how light he was. Like some sort of strange bird. Even now, Cesare's form felt alarmingly light, and he somehow seemed to keep getting lighter. Were the demons eating him alive, so there was less and less of him all the time? Chiaro frowned and hugged Cesare a bit tighter. "Don't let them have you," he whispered. "Please don't. Don't make me lose you."


	7. Confidences

**Chapter 7: Confidences**

**A/N: Chiaro strikes me as the type that would be bad at accepting love. He obviously likes to be needed, and likes being in relationships where he can give a lot, but it never seems like he's in a position where he's receiving anything. I think this is probably at least partly because Chiaro doesn't know how be on the receiving end of a friendship, so he avoids it because it makes him feel awkward.**

**A/N 2: Since I have a term paper to write, it might be several days before I can update again, but here's a nice long chapter to read in the meantime. :-)**

Somehow, it seemed to be a given now that Chiaro would hold Cesare while he slept. Chiaro was getting very adept at making him go to bed at what Cesare considered unreasonably early hours. It wasn't unusual for him normally to stay up until three or four in the morning, but now around midnight, or an hour past at the latest, Chiaro would rub his back, or stroke his hair or, worst of all, sit just far enough away that he _wasn't_ driving away the demons until Cesare gave in. He usually saved this as a last resort.

What really both enthralled and alarmed Cesare was the change this habit was having on his personality. He found himself genuinely smiling, even just to himself, far more than he ever had since leaving Vanozza as a child. He was thrilled at the way Chiaro would seek out his company and to all appearances really enjoy it. These things wouldn't have been alarming in themselves if they hadn't started messing with his plans.

Cesare was suddenly extremely reluctant to ask Chiaro to kill anyone, and he hadn't in the week since Chiaro had been sleeping with him, although there were three people who he'd considered. But Chiaro hated killing. Cesare didn't want to hurt him by making him kill. And he was starting to ask himself in general if Chiaro would approve of whatever plans he was making. What did it matter if Chiaro approved? When had Chiaro become his conscience? He was supposed to be a ruthless world-conqueror, wasn't he?

He was becoming more human, it seemed, or at least nurturing his human side more than he ever had since childhood. He started paying more attention to human interactions, quite unintentionally, especially friendships. He watched boys at play, teasing and fighting with each other, and smiled a little at their antics. He watched members of guilds pat each other on the back after long workdays. His favorite was seeing young boy standing up for a younger boy, probably his brother, against a group of older children. He hadn't stood a chance, so Cesare had intervened, much to his own surprise. He hadn't needed to do much. He only appeared on the scene and made a show of siding with the younger boys, which scattered the older children.

"Thank you, sir!" the older boy said, looking a little overawed.

"No need to thank me. I'm glad to see such loyalty."

"Yes, sir!" The boy helped the younger boy to his feet. "He's the best brother in the whole world!"

Cesare smiled. "Then you take good care of him." He started to walk away and saw Chiaro, back from buying their lunch, standing at a bit of a distance looking surprised. He went to join his friend. "You're back," he said, still smiling.

"Yes. Since when do you talk to children?"

Cesare shrugged. "It was an unfair fight, six older children against those two boys, so I sent them on their way."

"Really?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Cesare asked.

"You wouldn't normally get involved."

"I make exceptions."

Chiaro made no reply to this, but he smiled brightly.

That night, Cesare was unusually thoughtful as he waited for Chiaro to change. He realized that really, all the observation of relationships had been studying, because he wanted figure out how to be closer to Chiaro. So far, everything about their friendship had been initiated by Chiaro. He felt he ought to make a contribution, for a change. If Chiaro felt that the relationship was completely one-sided, he would probably get frustrated and leave.

But Cesare still didn't have any ideas. Short of making the relationship romantic, he couldn't really initiate more _physical_ affection, and he already knew Chiaro wouldn't want that. Besides… this was sweeter, somehow, like a patch of near-innocence in Cesare's twisted soul. But what, then? "Chiaro?"

"Yes?" Chiaro pulled on his nightshirt.

"What…?" He paused, wondering how to phrase this. "What do _you_ want?"

Chiaro turned around and looked at him a bit blankly. "What do I want?"

"From me. You're always doing things for me, and I want to do something for you."

Chiaro blinked. "Um…." He came to sit beside Cesare on the bed, and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, see… I want… things to be better. For us to be closer. But you're always the one who does everything. _I_ want to." Chiaro sighed. He sounded like a child, and saying this out loud felt so awkward. "I would think of something on my own… but I need to ask you, because I know I can't trust my instincts."

"Why?" Chiaro looked curious.

Cesare raised his eyebrow. "You're joking, right? Believe me, Chiaro, you do _not_ want me to follow my instincts. They're one part of me that is very definitely not human anymore."

"How so?"

Cesare sighed. Chiaro _would_ insist on an explanation. "My instincts leave no room for giving anything. They tell me to irrevocably bind you to me in any way I possibly can, regardless of your will or desire, and to lay claim to your body, mind, and soul, so no one can ever take you away from me."

"Pleasant," Chiaro replied, his voice sarcastic but not overly concerned.

Why didn't he ever react the way he was supposed to? "Honestly, Chiaro, why aren't you afraid of me?"

Chiaro considered. "Well… sometimes I am, honestly."

Cesare blinked. "You are?"

Chiaro smiled a little. "I'm not stupid. I know I'm flirting with fire. But the thing is, you still want me to like you. As long as you want that, and not just to consume me, I know that you are human enough that I have nothing to fear from you yet, regardless of how dangerous you might be to others."

"Is that your gauge?" Cesare asked. "For knowing when you have to kill me? That I'll get out of control and start trying to eat your heart?"

Chiaro frowned and shifted a little. "Don't say 'when,' please. I'm still hoping we won't get to that point."

"Because you don't want to lose me." _And because you're an eternal optimist._

"Exactly. I love you. At any rate, I'm more afraid _for_ you than I'm afraid _of_ you. I don't really care all that much what happens to me."

Cesare was beginning to wonder if Chiaro was of an entirely different species than he was. "You still haven't answered my first question."

Chiaro was silent for a moment. "You're asking me how we can be closer?"

Cesare blinked, trying to process this turnaround. That had been his goal, but what he'd wanted to know what Chiaro wanted. "I… well… is that what you want?"

"Of course. You're my best friend, right?" He lay down with his arms behind his head and smiled. "Confidences."

Cesare blinked. "Sorry?"

"Confidences. I would feel closer to you if you confided in me sometimes."

Didn't he know that the closer he got to a fire, the more likely he was to get consumed? Why was Chiaro such an idiot? "But that's something you'd be doing for me. Listening to my confidences."

"Perhaps. But confidences mean you trust me, and I like to be trusted."

What Chiaro wanted most was yet another way to give? Didn't he ever want anything for himself? Was it possible that Chiaro considered a confidence a gift? Cesare looked at his hands, thinking. What would make a good confidence? He looked at Chiaro again, wondering why this was so important to him. He didn't really care if Chiaro confided in him. In the very rare cases when he had, Cesare usually hadn't understood his feelings and hadn't known what to say. And he certainly wasn't overeager to confide his own feelings to Chiaro. They were generally dark and twisted, and might very well achieve the opposite of what he wanted and drive Chiaro away. He tried to think if there were any confidences he could give Chiaro that would be easy to tell him and wouldn't require him to express his dark feelings. But then… that rather defeated the purpose of a confidence, didn't it?

"You're quiet all of a sudden," Chiaro said.

"I was thinking of a confidence to give you."

Chiaro laughed. "Cesare, I'm not saying you _have_ to. I just meant… knowing that people trust me makes me feel closer to them. I didn't mean to put pressure on you."

Cesare sighed. Why couldn't Chiaro ever make sense? "You terrify me," he said without thinking.

"Cesare?" Chiaro looked surprised and a little hurt.

"Haven't… you ever had something that was wonderful but terrifying at the same time? Something you loved… except it didn't make sense why you had it to begin with… so you were always afraid you'd lose it?"

"Mm… besides you, you mean?"

"Me?" Well, he granted the "terrifying" part, and Chiaro was certainly afraid of losing him, but… wonderful? Cesare begged to differ.

"Why are you afraid of losing me?" Chiaro asked. "Didn't we already have this conversation?"

"Yes, and it didn't make any sense."

Chiaro looked confused. "What didn't make sense?"

"Why you love me."

"We've had this conversation too."

"It still didn't make any sense."

Chiaro gave a laugh. "Well, then what do you want me to say?"

"It's more… I don't think… it _can_ make sense to me," Cesare said. He sighed. "See… if, say, you were in love with me, that I could understand. I would know how to keep you—by giving you my body."

"Um…."

"Or if, like Volpe, you admired me… if you loved me for my charisma, demonic though it may be, I could understand that as well, and I would know how to keep you—by acting like a king."

"You want me to be like Volpe?"

"No. Definitely not. I'm just saying…." He sighed. "Or, if you were like me, and loved me like I love you…." He paused, then shook his head. "I would probably run."

Chiaro, to Cesare's shock, started laughing. He looked at him, feeling a little annoyed. "Sorry," Chiaro said, still smiling. "But that kind of stands to reason, doesn't it? You would _hate_ to have a master. You'd run away from anyone who wanted to own you, no matter what they were like. See, I don't mind having a master, not if he's you."

Definitely a completely different species. "This is funny?"

Chiaro laughed a little again. "I was just laughing at the way you said it."

Cesare managed to smile as well, but it faded. "But I don't understand your love," he said quietly. "I don't understand… friendship love. I recognized it today, in that boy that was protecting his younger brother, but… I still don't understand it. So… I don't know how to keep you. And it scares me."

Chiaro was quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling. "But you feel it yourself."

"No, I told you. I'm a conqueror. I want to own you."

"Right, but that's not all. You also want me to like you."

"Because you'll stay if you like me."

Chiaro met his eyes. "That's the only reason? You don't like the feeling of being liked by itself?"

Cesare frowned thoughtfully. "No, I do." He reveled in it.

"That's friendship love."

Cesare thought about this. "So… all I have to do is like you?"

Chiaro nodded.

"But that's _not_ all," Cesare said. "Yours… is a giving love. I can't understand… why you want to give." He looked down. "I remember it vaguely, because I used to feel it for Lucrezia, but I don't think I can anymore, and I don't remember… how to understand it. And I don't know if I'll ever have anything to give back."

"But you have," Chiaro said. He smiled. "Don't you see? Every time I hug you, you hug me back."

"Well… yes, but…." Cesare was trying to remember the peaceful, warm feeling when he'd hugged Lucrezia as a child and felt her small arms tightly wrapped round his neck. He'd promised to always protect her. He'd broken that promise rather badly… and he could no longer remember how to love like that. Of all things the demons had taken from him, Cesare felt this loss the most, and he suddenly envied Chiaro a little for apparently being able to feel that way about him.

"Cesare." Chiaro's voice was gentle, and Cesare turned to meet his eyes. "It's okay if you need me. I want to be needed. That's why I started following you to begin with."

Cesare blinked. "It… was? Really?" He stared. "You mean… you _wanted_ to start following me?"

Chiaro looked confused. "How did you miss that?"

"But… I was trying to make you feel guilty… so you would accept it as your penance."

"Were you really?" Chiaro grinned, obviously amused.

"You mean… you decided you wanted to in spite of my making you, or…?"

"No; I'd already promised I would, as soon as I let the demons heal you, because I knew you would need me. I would have stayed with you even if you hadn't asked. I just hadn't had a chance to tell you yet, since you were asleep."

"Are you serious?" Chiaro had decided to follow Cesare _on his own_? Cesare was so bewildered, he almost failed to notice how strangely overjoyed he felt at this revelation.

"Oh, yes." Chiaro smiled ruefully. "It was supposed to be this great, touching moment where I'd tell you what had happened and why I thought you should live, and that I promised to stay by your side no matter what happened… and then you completely ruined it."

Cesare stared at him, and then he started laughing. "You poor thing," he said at last, putting a hand to his head. "You must have been ready to cry when I said I wouldn't forgive you."

"Well… yes, actually."

Cesare shook his head. "You're even more of an idiot than I thought. Back then when you wanted to be friends, I thought you were trying to make the best of a bad situation."

Chiaro shook his head. "I wanted to be your friend when I met you."

Cesare looked at him. "You tried to kill me when you first met me."

"I didn't want to. I didn't even want to take the job to begin with, and I felt even worse about it when I met you. The second time I didn't want to even more. And obviously, the third time, I couldn't. And then everything happened, and my father was gone, but then suddenly you not only needed me, but you wanted me too, and you invited me to come with you. I wanted someone to protect and serve, and you graciously offered, promising to show me the world in the process." Chiaro smiled. "So I made you my king in my mind when you were fifteen. And then you became my friend. That's two bonds. You don't have anything to worry about."

"So you want to be liked, wanted, needed and trusted?" Cesare asked, trying to pin this down.

"Mm-hmm," Chiaro said, closing his eyes. He opened them and smiled. Cesare was really beginning to love his smile. "Hugs are nice, too," he said.

Cesare smiled back. Finally, something he could give. He drew Chiaro up into a hug, and he hugged him back tightly. "Actually, I've been really happy lately," Chiaro said. "I didn't know you loved me until you told me a week or so ago. You always made everything seem like a joke."

Cesare hadn't wanted Chiaro to know he loved him, because he hadn't known the feelings were returned until very recently. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, still hugging his friend. Now that he thought about it, Chiaro had given him plenty of reason to feel loved, and he'd never given Chiaro any. He would have to remedy that. He lay down on the bed, pulling Chiaro with him. Chiaro started to turn so he could hold him, but Cesare pulled him back. "No. I want to hold you tonight."

"Oh." Chiaro smiled a little. "Um… but…." He was stiff, resisting.

Cesare let him go and sat up, panicking a little. Had he done something wrong? If it was all right for Chiaro to hold him, wasn't it all right for him to hold Chiaro? He sat frozen for a moment, not knowing what to do.

Chiaro looked at him, seeming a little confused. Then his expression softened. "Damn," he said, putting a hand to his forehead. "Sorry. You just surprised me." He hesitated. "Um…."

Why was he acting like this? It didn't seem to make any sense with everything that had happened so far. "What?" Cesare asked at last. "Do you _like_ one-sided relationships?"

Chiaro blinked a few times and looked at him, his expression curiously blank. He blinked again. "Uh…." He blinked once more. "No, that's… um… sorry, I just… because _I'm _supposed to… but if you want to, that's fine."

Cesare was confused. What, had Chiaro thought Cesare holding him somehow wasn't allowed? "So… I can hold you?"

"Sure." Chiaro smiled. He allowed Cesare to draw him close and hold him, and relaxed, or seemed to at least. Cesare smiled, relaxing himself. This _was_ nice. He could see why Chiaro liked it. Had he really been that detached, that Chiaro hadn't even known he cared? "Sorry; that wasn't a very good confidence, was it? Telling you why I was afraid?"

Chiaro shook his head. "It was very good. Thank you. I think I understand a little better now."

"You're so weird." Cesare ran his fingers through Chiaro's golden hair, wondering if it felt as good to Chiaro as it did to him. He wanted to reciprocate now, to give Chiaro what Chiaro gave him, and he wished he knew how. Chiaro never seemed to need him. Chiaro was always the protector, always the caretaker, always the knight. Who would protect and care for Chiaro? Cesare smiled. Well, himself, of course. After all, Chiaro belonged to him.

And yet, the next morning Cesare woke to find that they had somehow switched places during the night, so that Chiaro was holding _him_. Cesare remembered ruefully that he didn't wake up when Chiaro moved him. "Chiaro," he scolded, sitting up, which woke his friend.

"Wh… what?" he asked groggily.

"Am I never allowed to be on the giving end?"

Once again, Chiaro looked at him blankly. "What do you mean? The giving end of what?"

Was this why Chiaro had sidetracked the discussion last night? Because he didn't _want_ Cesare to give him anything? That was hardly fair. Cesare sat beside his friend and put an arm around him. "Friendship goes both ways, Chiaro."

"Um… okay…." Chiaro sounded a little nervous. "Uh… what do you want?"

"For you to tell me what you want."

"But I have everything I want."

"I don't believe you."

Chiaro said nothing for several seconds. Then he turned to look at Cesare's hand on his shoulder for a moment, before blinking a few times and looking down at his own hands. "I… I don't know." His voice was unusually quiet.

"Could you at least think about it?" Cesare asked.

Chiaro smiled a little. "If you want me to."

"I do. Thank you." Cesare patted his shoulder and let go. He was now confident, for once, that he wasn't doing anything wrong; Chiaro was just being an idiot. "You should get dressed." Chiaro nodded and went to do so. Sighing, Cesare shook his head. Yes, he would protect and care for Chiaro—if Chiaro would let him.

…

Chiaro sighed as he polished his boots. What did Cesare want him to say? Really, he had no right to ask for anything with all Cesare had given him, and the thing he wanted more than anything else was impossible. At least, probably impossible. Definitely impossible if Cesare kept walking the path he was on, and Chiaro couldn't ask him to stop for his sake. Not only that, but he _had_ told Cesare what he wanted—several times—and Cesare had always dismissed it.

It would be unfair to tell Cesare how very, very much this meant to him, especially since to some degree Cesare really had no control over it. But Chiaro couldn't stop his selfish wishing. If only Cesare would be satisfied. If only he would stop. If only he would stop taking help from the demons he claimed to hate. Then maybe, _maybe_…. But really, Chiaro wasn't nearly important enough to ask for all of that. It was unfair. Stupid. But….

Chiaro blinked his eyes quickly and glared at his boots. "Idiot," he whispered into the empty room. "Idiot. You know what I want. How many times do I have to tell you?" He blinked quickly again but didn't quite manage to stop a tear from landing on one of his boots. "I want you to stay with me. I want you to be mine, not theirs." He pressed his hand against his eyes. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to let them have you. I want you to stop getting help from them, because all it does is give them a stronger hold on you, and it makes your time shorter, and I want you to stay with me." He sighed. "Please. Stay with me."

"Chiaro?"

Chiaro quickly brushed away his tears as Cesare approached his doorway. "Yes?"

"Aren't you ready yet?"

"Almost. Sorry." Chiaro pulled on his boots. He'd finish polishing them later. He went to the door, smiling. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Cesare blinked and looked closely at him. "Are you all right?"

"Of course."

Cesare's eyebrows drew together. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Isn't the Spanish diplomat waiting on you?"

"He can wait a bit longer."

Chiaro blinked. Cesare was assigning _him_ more importance that the Spanish diplomat? He was willing to put his plans on hold just because he was worried about Chiaro? Chiaro's smile suddenly became a real one, and he felt his face grow a little warm. "Well… well yeah, but there's no reason to make him."

Cesare's worried expression disappeared, though he looked a little confused.

"Come on," Chiaro said, grinning.


	8. A Job for Michelotto

**Chapter 8: A Job for Michelotto**

**Disclaimer: Just in case you forgot, I don't own Cantarella and Yuu Higuri does.**

**A/N: Yes, there is in fact conflict in this story, because more conflict means more character development. :-)**

**A/N 2: I'm posting two chapters back-to-back, since the next one's really short, but doesn't really fit with the one before it or after it.**

Cesare frowned at the report from France. Damn it all, but Monsier Larangue _had_ to die. He was becoming far too dangerous and things were getting out of control, and the only person who could do it was Michelotto. Unless… could he do it himself? He wasn't as good as Michelotto, though, and he really didn't want to leave anything to chance. Not to mention, he was a lot more obvious, and he couldn't really leave his post.

He sighed. What had happened to his ruthless, conqueror's heart? He was this reluctant to ask his _assassin_ to kill? Would Chiaro hate him for it? No, that was ridiculous; he never had before. The closest he'd come was slapping him across the face, and obviously he'd stayed. Cesare hadn't really cared at the time, but now…. But he had _tried_ to think of other options. Tried pathetically hard, really. No, it had to be done.

"Cesare?" Cesare turned to see Chiaro come in. Chiaro smiled at him and came to put a hand on his shoulder, sending the demons away. "Are you all right? You seem upset." Cesare sighed and stepped away from Chiaro's hand. "Cesa—"

"I have a task for you, Michelotto." Cesare didn't look at him as he spoke.

There was a pause, and Chiaro gave a slight sigh. "Oh."

"Monsier Larangue has become too dangerous and needs to be eliminated." He looked around at Chiaro, feeling awkward and guilty. "I… I tried to think of other options. I've been debating over this for several days, but… I can't see a way around it."

Chiaro met his eyes, looking surprised. "Did you?" He smiled a little. "Well," he said, "I guess it can't be helped." He pulled his mask out of his pocket and put it on, then straightened, Michelotto now, not Chiaro. "Information?"

"He's staying in Venice, in the house of Pergini. You should be able to be back by tomorrow evening." Which meant a night without Chiaro. Well, he would accept it as his punishment. "Here." He counted gold coins into a pouch. "This should be more than enough for travel expenses; you may keep the rest as your reward."

Michelotto frowned at the pouch. "I don't need a reward. I'm not keen on blood money. I'll get on it right away." He gave a slight bow, looking almost like Volpe, which pained Cesare more than any argument would have, and then left the room. It occurred to him that, while Chiaro wouldn't leave him, he might stop the flood of affection he'd been giving Cesare recently. Well, he could get used to sleeping on his own again. He sat down at his desk, glaring at the letter and thinking that world conquerors really ought not to have best friends who hated killing.

…

"No… please. Please, I have a wife and child, please don't…." Monsier Larangue had already been mortally wounded, and no mercy on Michelotto's part would save him now. With a quick thrust through the throat, he was put out of his misery. Sighing, Michelotto disposed of his body and washed his hands. A wife and child. How many other victims had had wives and children? Or ailing parents that needed caring for, or best friends? He scrubbed hard at his palms. Why was it so hard to get the blood of his hands? He closed his eyes. What if Larangue had been someone else's Cesare?

Hands finally clean, Chiaro got to his feet. He'd forgotten in the last few weeks that Cesare was still a conqueror. Not completely forgotten, of course… but he had been caught off guard when Cesare asked him to kill again. Which was absurd, of course. He was Cesare's assassin. He might also be Cesare's best friend and knight, but he was still Cesare's assassin. And Cesare was still the type to send assassins after his enemies. He was still a conqueror who wanted to be a king, and he was still possessed by demons.

In some ways, Chiaro had always wanted, and still wanted, to see Cesare's dream come true. When he was young, he had thought it a grand adventure to be the right hand man of a tragic conquering hero. But so much had happened between now and then. He'd killed dozens of people on Cesare's orders and seen lives fall apart. He'd seen Cesare become more and more frustrated and angry the longer this went on. He'd seen him go into fits and spasms when the demons "helped" him. Conquering the world no longer seemed worth the destruction it would cause. But some part of him still wanted Cesare to achieve his dream because he thought it might possibly make Cesare happy. That it might be some compensation for all he had gone through. That afterwards, Cesare might be able to find peace, if he survived.

Most of Chiaro, however, knew that he was deluding himself. Conquering the world would not bring Cesare peace, satisfaction, or happiness. Nothing would ever compensate for the demons, because the demons would take him if he kept accepting their help. The only reason he killed for Cesare now was to keep him safe, and to keep him from having to kill himself. And he had to keep accepting the fact that he would never be able to stop killing people, as long as he stayed with Cesare.

And yet… this time had been different. Cesare had been reluctant—shockingly reluctant. Not because he cared about killing people necessarily, but because he hadn't wanted to ask Chiaro to kill people. He'd gone to the extent of looking for other options. This made Chiaro wonder—how many people had Cesare done this with? How many potential victims had escaped assassination because Cesare hadn't wanted to make Chiaro kill? He would have to ask Cesare when he returned. Which he ought to do quickly. Cesare might not be able to sleep without him.

…

Cesare apparently was addicted to Chiaro. Because he hadn't slept at all the night Chiaro was gone and had finally given up and went to study politics, accompanied by his host of demons. He'd been in a bad mood the entire day since, to the point where Volpe sullenly apologized for not being Chiaro. He'd been very moody about Chiaro lately. Cesare would have to do something about that eventually.

"Chiaro is back, Lord Cesare," Pedro said, coming into his office. "He sent me to tell you everything went fine."

"Thank you, Pedro." Pedro bowed and walked away. So, Chiaro wasn't coming to talk to him himself. Cesare sighed, and went to seek out his assassin. He needed more information that that… and he wanted to know if Chiaro was okay.

He found Chiaro in his room-turned-semi-library, sitting by the fireplace and still wearing his mask. He hesitated at the doorway, wondering if he should go in. He doubted Chiaro wanted his company at the moment, which meant another night without him. Possibly several; maybe even indefinitely. Well, honestly, it would probably be better for his plans anyway. It seemed world domination didn't fit very well with Chiaro's angelic affection. He pointedly ignored the pain in his heart and the demons mocking him.

Presently, Michelotto turned and saw him, then looked back at the fire. "Everything went fine," he said. "I told Pedro to tell you. No one saw and there's no evidence to point to either of us."

"Thank you," Cesare said, feeling like he ought to say something. He stepped into the room, even though he thought Chiaro probably didn't want him there. "You know, you can take your mask off." Michelotto made no move to do so. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." There was a slight note of defiance in his voice that hadn't been there in several weeks.

Cesare went closer until he could pull the unresisting Michelotto's mask off, briefly enjoying the freedom around his hand before pulling away. Then he saw why Chiaro had kept the mask on. He was crying. And Cesare ached to comfort him, as he'd promised himself he would, but how could he comfort Chiaro when it was his fault? "Chiaro…."

"I'm _fine_," Chiaro said again, rubbing his sleeve across his face. "He begged for his life, and it threw me a little, but I'm fine." He took his mask back from Cesare and reached into his pocket, handing back the pouch Cesare had given him. "Your change. I don't want it."

Cesare took it reluctantly, and it occurred to him suddenly that there was really only one way he could make up for this. He didn't really want to, but… it was unfair to keep putting Chiaro through this. "I'll hire another assassin," he said.

Chiaro looked around in surprise, then looked alarmed. "But I did fine, I did what you wan—"

"Not to replace you," Cesare interrupted. "I mean… you would be my companion and I can have someone else do the killing. You'd like that, right?"

Chiaro met his eyes, then looked down, smiling a little. "You really like me a lot, don't you?"

"I'm serious, Chiaro."

There was a pause, then Chiaro shook his head. "No. I don't want you to. I mean, I obviously can't stop you, but I'd rather you not."

This was unexpected. "Why?"

But Chiaro answered with another question. "I was thinking about it on the way home. How many men have you thought about killing in the last two weeks but decided not to because you didn't want to make me?"

Cesare blinked and thought about it. "Three."

Chiaro smiled a little. "That's why. You think twice. You try to come up with other options. You wouldn't do that with another assassin. I can't be your sheath unless I'm also your sword, so I don't want you to hire someone else. Besides, someone else adds another level of complication."

"Well, I'd prefer not to," Cesare said. "I just thought… you might like me to."

Chiaro shook his head.

"Very well," Cesare said, a little disappointed by his complete failure to remedy the situation. "Well… goodnight."

He started to walk away, and got to the doorway before Chiaro said, "Wait…."

He turned around and saw that his friend was on his feet, looking like he wanted to say or ask something but didn't know how. Cesare hesitated. Did Chiaro want him to comfort him? Taking a chance, he crossed back to where Chiaro was standing and drew him into a hug, trying not to notice the sudden freedom from his demons that he hadn't felt in nearly two days. Chiaro held onto him tightly. He took a deep breath and let it out. "He had a wife and child. That was why he begged me, but by then he was already mortally wounded. I really need to start getting them… on the first try."

Cesare frowned. The man's wife and child would starve. He was only of peasant origins, after all, even if he had become a dangerous army commander. Chiaro probably knew that too. "We'll send reparations," he said on a whim.

Chiaro let go a little to stare at him in disbelief.

"An anonymous gift to console them in their loss. So they'll have enough money to live on, and so his wife will have a dowry for a second marriage if she wishes."

"You'd do that?" Chiaro looked incredulous.

"Would it make you feel better?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

Chiaro continued to stare, but now he was smiling a little. "Thank you." He paused and his eyes softened. "You… you really are changing a lot lately." His smile broadened. "Volpe would probably kill me if he knew why." He hugged Cesare again. "Well, we should probably go to sleep. I'm tired." He let go and started toward Cesare's room. Cesare stood for a moment, confused. "Are you coming?"

"You want to?"

Chiaro blinked, then smiled. "Cesare, I still like you."

"Why?" Cesare still didn't understand this. He was _not_ a likable person. He didn't even like _himself_.

"Well, at the moment," Chiaro said, "because you're going to send reparations to the Larangue family."

Cesare blinked. "It changes?"

Chiaro gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes. "Cesare," he whined, "I'm _tired_."

"All right, all right." Putting aside his confusion, Cesare followed Chiaro back to his room.


	9. Volpe's Concern

**Chapter 9: Volpe's Concern**

**A/N: I'm trying to stay at least reasonably true to Cesare's personality in the manga. He didn't ever strike me as actually being homosexual. It more seemed like he fell in love with Chiaro partly out of desperation to be close to Chiaro and partly (and this is my personal theory) because the demons stirred up a sexual passion, knowing it would drive Chiaro away, since Chiaro was a hindrance to their plans. I figured I could turn the second around by countering the first, and thus give the story a better possibility of a happy ending. But that doesn't mean Cesare isn't still aware of what the demons could make him feel if he isn't careful.**

**A/N 2: I'm actually bringing Volpe into the story, what do you know. My opinion on Volpe: I feel kind of bad for him, since Cesare chooses Chiaro, not him. But he also totally freaks me out because of his obsession with Cesare and the fact that he has no problem with the demons taking over Cesare's mind and body. And honestly, I think the obsession weirds Cesare out a little too, though of course, being Cesare, he's perfectly willing to use it.**

**A/N 3: I apologize for the ridiculously long author's notes. Please enjoy the story.**

Chiaro woke up, smiling to see Cesare still sleeping peacefully. It had been a week since he'd killed Larangue, and there had been no assignments since. Cesare was changing for the better, that much was certain.

"Lord Cesare!" The door suddenly burst open to reveal Volpe, who saw Chiaro and turned red.

Meanwhile, Cesare stirred, blinking open his eyes. "Is that Volpe?" he murmured.

"Yes." Well, it was bound to have happened eventually.

Cesare sat up and looked at Volpe. "Most people knock, you know."

"I'm… sorry," Volpe stammered. "I didn't realize you slept together." Underneath his embarrassment was anger, primarily directed at Chiaro. Of course.

"We don't," Cesare said. "I mean, we do, but…." He got the covers off them. "Look, we're both clothed. Chiaro can drive away the demons by touching me, so in order to help me sleep peacefully, he often holds me. However, he isn't my lover, or anything like that." Thank goodness for Cesare's ability to be calm in the face of crisis. If Cesare were suspected of homosexual behavior… but then again, this _was_ Volpe, who would probably rather walk across a field of knives than cast any shadow on Cesare's name. Though he might relish the opportunity to get Chiaro in trouble.

Volpe looked doubtful. "That's hardly normal."

Cesare cocked an eyebrow, perhaps at Volpe's bluntness. "_I'm_ hardly normal."

"What do you mean, Chiaro can drive away the demons by touching you?"

Chiaro sighed a little, a bit irritated by Volpe's tendency to talk about him while he was in the room as if he wasn't even there.

"I don't know how, but Chiaro has that ability." He looked at Chiaro curiously. "Do you know how?" Chiaro shook his head, glad at least that Cesare wasn't ignoring him.

"Is _that_ why you always stay so close to him?"

"Partly."

"But why do you want to send them away? I thought they're usually helpful."

"I don't need their help to sleep."

"But if Chiaro is always sending them away—"

"What?" Chiaro asked. "Would you rather they take him over to make him strong? Don't you care about his soul at all?"

Volpe glared at him, saying nothing.

Cesare sighed. "There was apparently something you needed to tell me that you found urgent enough to invade my privacy," he commented. "Might we table this discussion for the time being while you give me your information?"

Volpe mastered himself and turned to Cesare. "The pope needs to speak with you. He says it's urgent."

"Very well. I hope he will not be unduly upset about the delay caused by this irrelevant discussion." Chiaro looked at Cesare nervously, hoping he wasn't the one Cesare was mad at.

"Forgive me, Master Cesare. I will take a message to the pope informing him that you will arrive shortly."

"Please do." He sighed after Volpe left the room. "Chiaro, my laces?"

"Right… sorry," Chiaro said distractedly, going quickly to do up the laces of his cardinal's robe. "Uh… sorry about that."

"It wasn't your fault." He sighed again. "I have to do something about him, Chiaro. Any ideas?"

"Something like what?"

"He's very useful, and I'd rather he not lose his loyalty to me through jealousy of you."

"Well, you could try smiling at him occasionally."

"He doesn't like me to be familiar."

"He doesn't like you to be familiar _with me_. I have a feeling he might not be as averse if you treated him like a friend."

"Perhaps." Cesare seemed oddly distracted.

"Is this really worrying you that much?"

Cesare smiled a little. "The idea of being too close to Volpe… makes me nervous, for some reason." He paused. "You don't think he would spread rumors, do you?"

"I doubt it. He wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

"Not me, perhaps. But what about you?"

Chiaro shook his head. "If something happens, just tell the truth, that you're not homosexual."

"I haven't engaged in homosexual relations, no, but if my father thinks I have… well, no matter. If he won't accept the truth, I can hold something else over his head."

Chiaro blinked a few times, having noticed that Cesare had not made any assertion regarding his sexuality in response to either Volpe or himself.

"You're staring at me," Cesare commented as he put his hat on and adjusted it.

"Cesare, you're not, right?"

"Not what?"

"Homosexual."

Cesare sniffed and shook his head. "No. Nothing that straightforward."

"Straightforward?"

Cesare sighed and looked around. "Chiaro, you never will understand, will you? I am _possessed by demons_. Sexuality isn't even an issue. _Everything_ has been warped. I have all sort of desires and passions now—the taste of blood, for example—that I never would have dreamed of as a child, and _don't want_, by the way. It's impossible to tell what's me and what's from them, so I keep everything completely suppressed unless I have a very good reason not to." He back in the mirror and readjusting his hat.

Chiaro frowned in confusion. Had that been an answer? If so, he hadn't understood it. "So…."

"So, stop worrying."

"How is that supposed to make me stop worrying?"

Cesare sighed again, took the hat off, and turned. "I do not want a romantic relationship with you," he said, emphasizing every word. "Are you satisfied?"

Chiaro's mind was a whirl, but at least that last bit was fairly straightforward. And that was all he really cared about. He nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Now help me with this stupid hat. And shouldn't you be getting dressed instead of worrying about stupid things? Or did you want to leave me to Volpe when I go visit my father?"

"I'd rather step on nails," Chiaro grumbled, finally managing to straighten Cesare's hat.

Cesare turned to him with a teasing smile. "That's my Chiaro."


	10. A Day Off

**Chapter 10: A Day Off**

**A/N: Yes, Cesare is extremely dense, but it's not his fault—the demons don't exactly help. By the way, the tension between Chiaro and Volpe only gets worse, just so you know.**

Chiaro stayed asleep for a few minutes after Cesare got up, but then he shivered a little and sat up, stretching, and shivering again. He straightened and stared into space for a moment.

"Good morning," Cesare said smiling. "You seem unusually tired."

Chiaro didn't reply for a moment, but then he blinked and looked at Cesare. "Morning," he said, returning the smile. "Hey, what's the date today?"

"April the fourth."

"Ah. That's why." He sighed a little, got out of bed and crossed to the window.

"Are you all right?" Cesare asked.

"Yes." He paused, then turned to Cesare. His eyes were strange, uncertain. Like he wanted to say or ask for something, but wasn't sure how. "Hey… what are you doing today?"

"Meeting with my father this morning and having lunch with the Archbishop of Germany. I hope he speaks either Latin or Italian, because I'd rather not have to rely on the demons to teach me German." He was always a little worried they made him say things he didn't intend to say.

"Do they do that?" Chiaro asked, sounding disturbed.

"Of course. Fortunately, I'm fluent in enough languages that they usually don't have to. Unfortunately, my German is fairly limited."

"What about this evening?"

This was odd. Chiaro didn't usually like his day laid out so completely. "Official dinner. And unfortunately, I can't miss it."

Chiaro frowned. "So… you really don't have any free time today." He sounded disappointed.

"Not really." He looked at Chiaro, confused. "Why?"

Chiaro looked out the window again. "Then… could I possibly have a day off?"

Cesare blinked. "A day off?" He didn't like the sound of that at all.

"It's the anniversary of my father's death. I haven't been to his grave in several years, and… I'd like to take him flowers, and maybe visit a few places around where I used to live."

Cesare didn't respond immediately.

"I don't have to," Chiaro said quickly, sensing his reluctance. "It was just an idea. I can go a different time… and it's not like he'd know the difference." He came over to help with the laces of the cardinal's robe Cesare had just put on. "Besides, I should probably be there if the demons are going to be helping you speak German, so they don't get out of control."

Cesare said nothing. Could he really deny the only request Chiaro had ever made of him, other than their becoming friends? It was only one day. And Chiaro was obviously homesick. Besides, it only stood to reason that he would occasionally want a break from being Cesare's companion, even if he did like him. "No," he said, smiling. "You should go and visit your father. I don't think one day off in six years of service is too much to ask," he added with a wink.

Chiaro looked surprised. "Um… it's all right, I don't have to."

"No, I want you to. Go visit your father. You need a rest, anyway."

"Are you sure?"

Cesare thought ruefully that that hadn't taken much convincing. "Of course."

"Can I… go without my mask?"

"If you think you'll be safe."

"Of course. Um… any chance I could have a few coins to buy lunch?"

Cesare rolled his eyes and gave a laugh. "Chiaro, you can buy whatever you want. Just take a bag of coins, I don't care."

"You're sure this is all right? Will you be okay without me?"

"I think I can handle myself for a day," Cesare replied, putting a hand on Chiaro's shoulder. "You should go enjoy yourself."

Chiaro smiled hesitantly. "All right. I'll be back this evening, then?"

This evening. Such a very long time to be without his angel. Cesare shook off the thought and smiled. "I'll see you then."

Chiaro grinned and gave Cesare a hug, then quickly changed into casual clothes and left. Cesare felt a curious emptiness rush through him as he watched Chiaro walk away, but he shook it off. Chiaro would be back tonight. But the thought kept recurring, and the demons picked it up and whispered it at him. _He wanted a break from you. He wanted a day when he didn't have to be your companion. Of course. Do you really think anyone would want to be with you all the time?_ Cesare sighed. He didn't have time for this. "Chiaro loves me," he said aloud. The words rang false in his own ears. Not because Chiaro didn't act like he loved Cesare, but because it was impossible. "Chiaro loves me," he said again, louder. "He held me last night and hugged me goodbye, and he'll be back tonight, because he loves me." He put on the stupid hat and adjusted it. Why were people so obsessed with hats?

"Master Cesare?"

Cesare turned to see Volpe. Volpe who had never asked for a day off. Because Volpe didn't mind that Cesare was completely twisted and unlovable. He liked Cesare's demons. Someone like Volpe could be his constant companion, but not Chiaro. He didn't deserve Chiaro. "Yes?"

"Where is Chiaro going?"

"I gave him the day off so he could go and visit his father's grave."

Volpe paused. "He needs an entire day for that?"

"He also wanted to visit his hometown. I think he was feeling nostalgic because it's the anniversary of his father's death."

"Don't you need him today?"

"I'll be fine without him."

"Still, though… it was hardly an emergency. His first priority should be you."

"His first priority _is_ me," Cesare said. "This is the only request he's ever made of me. I can grant it if I so choose. Please keep your opinions to yourself."

"Yes, Master Cesare," Volpe replied, bowing.

…

It was a beautiful day, and Chiaro was pleased upon arriving at his father's grave to find that his flowers were almost unnecessary; there were morning glory vines grown up around the crude cross he had planted there, and poppies all around. It seemed so peaceful; such a contrast to the man his father had been, and the life he now led. But somehow, Chiaro found this comforting rather than ironic. Perhaps there was still some possibility of peace, not only for Chiaro, but for Cesare as well. He wanted so badly for Cesare to find peace.

Chiaro sighed, leaning back against a tree. He wished Cesare had been able to come with him. It was lonely visiting a grave without any company, and he considered simply going back now. He might get there in time for Cesare's visit with the German archbishop. Then again… he didn't know when he would have the opportunity again to visit his hometown, and he'd wanted to for a while now. And Cesare had seemed fine with him going. And he really wanted a break from being Michelotto, if only for a day.

He headed down to town. He was a little cautious about meeting the people he had previously stolen from, but all seemed fairly good-natured about it now. That had been years ago. Chiaro found himself slipping back into the carefree role of a peasant as he shopped for his lunch and later his supper, chatting and bartering with the shopkeepers, catching up on the latest news, finding out who had ended up marrying whom and whether they had children.

But still, Chiaro was lonely. His best friend wasn't here, and none of these people were people he had ever been particularly close to, even if they treated him as one of them and he clearly fit into this world better than into Cesare's. And when there turned out to be a spring dance that evening, Chiaro knew what he wanted to do. After all, by now Cesare should be finished with his official dinner, right? Smiling, Chiaro left the dance, promising to return, and rode back toward home.

…

Cesare stood by the window, looking out, although he really didn't know which direction Chiaro would be coming from when he returned. If he returned. _He might not._ Cesare's heart ached. He wished the demons wouldn't rub it in. This morning he'd still been trying to convince them that Chiaro actually loved him, but he'd long since given that up. Now he was only trying to convince himself that something would compel Chiaro to return. Amazing the clarity being alone with whispering demons gave him.

He remembered when Chiaro had first come to him, and he'd told himself that if he managed to keep Chiaro from smelling the cleaner air and greener grass away from his master's presence, Chiaro wouldn't have as much reason to leave. If he didn't allow Chiaro to make other friends, Chiaro would only have him. Now he had let Chiaro loose to get a taste of freedom from being the devil's assassin. What, if anything, would make him want to return? Pity?

Cesare closed his eyes. Back to that. It was the only thing that made any sense to him. Chiaro pitied him, so he stayed, and held the demons at bay, and told him he loved him. Maybe Chiaro even thought he did love Cesare, but chances were much higher that he'd said it so Cesare would feel better, because he pitied Cesare. And the only reason he pitied Cesare was because he was an angel. But eventually an angel would tire of working for the devil, wouldn't he? Especially if he were allowed a taste of freedom.

Cesare opened his eyes, blinking them. He didn't want to hold Chiaro against his will, but more than that—a thousand times more than that—he didn't want Chiaro to leave. If Chiaro left, he was utterly hopeless. But he didn't want to strangle Chiaro. Not that it really made a difference. Regardless of what he did or didn't do, Chiaro could never love him. His presence was a burden Chiaro had needed a respite from, and he'd finally found the courage to ask for it.

"Shouldn't he be back by now?" Volpe's voice from the door made Cesare start a little.

"I don't know," Cesare said, not looking at him.

"I still can't figure out why you let him go if you want him here."

Cesare turned and glared at him. "I was attempting to act like a friend, not that you would know anything about that."

There was no response. The silence hung in the air. "Do you think he will come back?" Volpe asked.

"Yes!" Cesare said firmly. He straightened. "In fact, I'm going to go look for him."

"If he's going to come back, why do you need to look for him?"

"Something might have happened."

One of Volpe's eyebrows arched slightly. "Why don't I go and find him?"

"No. I'll go. Stay here."

"Yes, Cesare."

Cesare walked out into the streets and realized he had absolutely no idea where to look. He'd been primarily trying to escape Volpe's questions, not that the demons weren't still asking him the exact same thing. Except that they weren't asking—they were telling. _He could never love you. You're nothing but a pitiful burden to him. How could he? You don't deserve him… you should never have let him go. He'll never come back to you now._

Cesare stopped, trying to think. He had once believed Chiaro loved him. There must have been some reason. He tried to think of all the things Chiaro had said to him, but they all rang false… except one thing, one memory that nearly made him sick. He had told Chiaro to tell him what he wanted. Chiaro's face had changed and become serious, and he had looked at his hands and said he didn't know. But he obviously _had_ known, but hadn't wanted to say. Was what Chiaro wanted most… his freedom?

Without any real contemplation, Cesare found himself on a bridge overlooking the river Tiber. If he jumped, would he die? Would the demons _let_ him die? He'd already tried it once. What if he did die? Would Chiaro mourn his passing? Feel regret that he hadn't been able to save Cesare's soul, while exulting in his freedom, albeit a bit guiltily? The world would hardly lose some great hero if he chose to jump. On the contrary, many would breathe sighs of relief. The only person who might be truly disappointed would be Volpe, who would never get to see his master seize the reins of hell… or try to do so, at any rate. That was something Chiaro would never want to see.

Really… perhaps dying now would be best. Chiaro wouldn't have to kill him. He could give Chiaro his freedom… do something for him, for once. But… he didn't want to die. There was still a chance he might see Chiaro again if he stayed alive, but there would be no Chiaro in hell. But could he really hold Chiaro prisoner because of his selfish desire to see him again? Cesare frowned, beginning to feel like there was something a bit off in his reasoning, but it didn't really matter anymore.

_We will never abandon you._

Cesare sighed. "Go away," he muttered.

_Truly, we will not. You are not meant to be with angels. Stop chasing the light and come to us. We will give you all you desire._

"Except Chiaro," Cesare replied. "Go away." They continued to whisper to him, pressing against him, surrounding him. They were heavy and made it hard to breathe. Cesare felt tears on his face and didn't bother to rub them away. There was no one to see, no one to care. He had no one. Chiaro had left him, and only the demons wanted him now. Correction—only the demons had ever wanted him. He looked down into the water again. He was so tired of fighting, and he didn't want to give in. If he jumped, would that struggle at least be over?

…

Chiaro began to sense that something was amiss as soon as he approached the mansion. He paused for a moment, trying to sense if Cesare needed him, but Cesare wasn't calling him. Still feeling a little uneasy, he went inside. "Cesare?" he called as he approached the main room.

"Oh, so you did come back."

Startled, Chiaro turned to see Volpe coming into the room. "Of course."

"Master Cesare was beginning to think you wouldn't."

"Was he?" Oh no. Chiaro shook his head. "Could you let him know I'm here?"

"He left, to go look for you."

Chiaro blinked. "He did?" He'd been that worried? "How long ago?"

"Five or ten minutes, perhaps."

"Thanks for letting me know." Chiaro started to leave, but a hand grasped his shoulder. "What?" he asked, turning to Volpe.

"What are you doing to him lately?" he asked icily.

"What do you mean?" Chiaro asked, though he knew exactly what Volpe meant.

"He is going to get himself killed if you keep wearing away at his ruthlessness like this. He is in too powerful of a position. He cannot afford to become so attached to a mere peasant that he begins to see him as a friend rather than a servant."

Chiaro jerked his shoulder away from Volpe's grasp. "Maybe Cesare _needs_ a friend, ever think of that? You know, someone who actually cares about his _feelings_, not just his potential?"

"So you _do_ care about his potential?" Volpe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I care about his heart. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe he is waiting for me." He turned and started to walk away.

"You can't 'save' him," Volpe said.

Chiaro stopped.

"You know you can't," Volpe persisted. "I understood that long ago, which is why I decided instead to help him cope with his destiny rather than vainly try to escape it. All you're doing is postponing the inevitable. You're giving him false hope. It's cruel."

Chiaro set his teeth. His hands were clenched and he was shaking with rage. "There is _always_ hope," he hissed. "I am not going to encourage him to give up the only hope he has. Now, if you will please excuse me." He walked away quickly before Volpe had a chance to say anything else. And Cesare thought they vied for his good graces. Only the two of them knew that they truly battled for his soul.

He took a deep breath of the twilight air when he stepped out into the street, trying to calm himself. _On second thought, Cesare, do _not_ treat him as a friend. Avoid him like the plague._ He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Now, where was Cesare? He couldn't have gone far in five or ten minutes. "Cesare?" he called softly. He tried sensing for the demons, and realized that their absence was the "something wrong" he had felt when approaching the house. Where would Cesare have gone to look? Chiaro didn't exactly have any favorite haunts that suggested themselves. "Come on," he muttered. "Where are you?"

The longer he looked, the more worried he became. Cesare didn't have a guard with him. Even an expert swordsman, if faced by multiple assassins… but then he finally caught the demons' "scent." He followed it quickly, a bit alarmed by just how strong they were, wherever they were. He walked all the way to the Tiber, until he saw a bridge. He stopped, trying to make out what he saw. A mass of demons surrounded a human figure standing at the edge, making it almost unrecognizable as Cesare, though Chiaro knew it was. Cesare's heart seemed to freeze as he suddenly saw in his mind's eye a younger version of Cesare standing at the edge of a rooftop. _God, no!_ "Cesare," he whispered, his voice hoarse. Then he started running, managing at last to find his voice. "Cesare!"

**A/N 2: I actually managed a cliffy, what do you know? I'll try to update soon. ;-)**


	11. My Master

**Chapter 11: My Master**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Cantarella. However, I do own Barnabas.**

**A/N 2: As you might expect, this continues immediately from the last chapter. And I am pathetic for updating this soon after a cliffy, but I can't resist.**

"Cesare!"

Cesare blinked a few times at the familiar voice. Was he imagining things? He turned and looked through the cloud of demons to see Chiaro standing at the end of the bridge. His light was so bright, and he looked so much like an angel, Cesare could almost see wings in his mind's eyes. Did Chiaro have any idea how incredibly beautiful he looked when Cesare was like this? "Chiaro," he said softly. Why was he here? By chance?

"Can I… don't move, okay?" He looked pale, and he was breathing hard like he'd been running. Why did he look so scared? Chiaro was approaching quickly, but somehow cautiously, like he was monitoring Cesare's reaction to his every step. Confused, Cesare reached out a hand to welcome him. Chiaro's face flooded with relief. He ran the rest of the way, and a second later, Cesare was in his arms, in a tight hug, and the demons were screaming as they faded into the light.

Cesare closed his eyes, clinging tightly. He could almost feel the soft feathers from Chiaro's gentle wings folded around him, sheltering him. Even if this _was_ only a chance meeting, he was grateful for it, would be grateful for any chance meetings from now on. Was there some way to make Chiaro stay with him again? Any way to keep his angel by his side? Would telling him how much he loved him make a difference? Or would that twisted, possessive love only drive him away?

"Geez… don't scare me like that," Chiaro said, his voice trembling. He rubbed Cesare's back then stroked his hair. His fingers were shaking. "What happened? Why are they so bad? Is that just because I was gone today?" He drew Cesare a little closer, cradling him, surrounding him. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have gone if I'd known."

Cesare didn't say anything. He was starting to realize that he'd actually been about to kill himself, and that he really didn't want to. The shock was making him tremble as well, though he hoped Chiaro didn't notice. He was trying to master himself. If he started panicking or crying every time Chiaro went away, Chiaro would feel stifled and find him even more of a burden. As it was, maybe Chiaro really did intend to come back. It was much harder to believe the demons when Chiaro was holding him like this. At last he managed to let go enough that he could look at Chiaro calmly. "Does… does this mean… I mean… were you… headed home?"

"I already went home a few minutes ago, but Volpe said you'd gone to look for me."

"Oh…." It was amazing the number of demons that stopped trying to break through Chiaro's shield of light at the revelation that Chiaro had always intended to come back. Just like he'd chosen on his own to follow Cesare to begin with. Relaxing a little, he looked at Chiaro in concern. "Are you all right? You're shaking. Did something happen?"

Chiaro gave a laugh, and he pulled Cesare close again. "Idiot. How would _you_ feel if you saw _me_ standing at the very edge of a bridge, especially if I had a history of jumping off things?"

Terror flooded Cesare at the very thought, and his fingers clutched Chiaro's shirt. Then he blinked. "That… is how _you_ felt?" he asked, pulling away just a little to see Chiaro's face.

Chiaro gave a half smile. "Yeah… so please stop standing on the edges of dangerous places."

Cesare frowned, beginning to feel a bit worried. Chiaro wasn't _really_ that attached to him, was he? Not really. He couldn't be. Cesare shook his head a little, imperceptibly. "Well… shall we go home?"

Chiaro paused. "Actually… I wanted to go back out, but I wanted to come back and get you, since I thought you'd be done by now. But if you'd rather, we can just go home… I'm sure you're tired."

"Get… me?" The words were having a hard time registering.

"Yes; they're having a dance… just something simple… and I… well, I was hoping you could come and be my partner."

This was such a ridiculous request that Cesare could only stare at him for a moment. "Why?"

Chiaro seemed encouraged by the fact that Cesare hadn't said no. He smiled a little. "Because I want you to. And you might like it."

"But…." Cesare shook his head. "But why me? This is your day off. Wasn't there anyone there that you knew?"

Chiaro blinked and looked a little hurt. "Well… yeah, but I wanted _you_."

Cesare felt his face flush. Chiaro's warmth seemed to flood through the burning cold where the demons had been. He found himself smiling involuntarily. "But… but I'm a man."

Chiaro shrugged. "Honestly, nobody really cares."

"But I can't dance."

"So? I'll teach you. Will you come?"

"Yes."

Chiaro beamed, and his light, if possible, grew even brighter. "Great!" he said. "Come on, my horse is over here."

"But I don't understand," Cesare said as they got on the horse. "Why would you want to be with me? This is your day off. Doesn't this sort of defeat the purpose?"

Chiaro turned and stared at him blankly for a moment, then seemed to realize something. He slumped and slapped his forehead. "So that's why."

"What's why?"

"I'm sorry. I should have known you'd take it like that. Cesare, it wasn't that I didn't want to be with you. That's why I was asking about your plans—I wanted to see if you could come with me. I just wanted a break from being Michelotto, that's all. And I wanted to visit my father's grave. It had nothing to do with not wanting to be around you."

Cesare said nothing. He really wanted to believe this was true, but the demons' explanations made so much more sense. And yet, here Chiaro was. Not only had he come back, but he wanted to take Cesare with him—he preferred Cesare to anyone who had been there.

"Actually, I really missed you," Chiaro said, looking a little shy. "I kept turning around and expecting you to be there."

Cesare frowned. Chiaro was really overdoing it. He knew Chiaro hadn't missed him. Maybe he'd worried about him, but missed? Hardly.

"What's wrong?"

Cesare raised his eyebrows. Chiaro wasn't even looking at him, since he was looking ahead to guide the horse. How did he know something was wrong? When Cesare didn't answer, Chiaro looked round in confusion. "You're lying," Cesare told him.

Chiaro blinked. "No, I'm not."

"You are."

"What… about what?"

"That you missed me."

Chiaro slowed the horse. "I'm not. Don't you think it stands to reason that I'd miss my best friend?"

Cesare said nothing. He was remembering Chiaro's fingers trembling as they stroked his hair. Some part of him really didn't want Chiaro to be this attached to him. He was uncomfortable with the thought that Chiaro might have been heartbroken rather than relieved if he'd chosen to jump. It made him feel an odd sense of responsibility toward his friend that he wasn't used to. But it didn't matter. This was ridiculous. Chiaro didn't need him. An angel could have no need for a demon.

Chiaro furrowed his brows a little, looking worried. "They've… been tormenting you all day, haven't they?" He paused. "What were you thinking? Before I found you on the bridge?"

Cesare looked away. Chiaro might be hurt by how completely the demons had managed to dismantle Cesare's trust. "But see… they're right."

"The demons?"

"Yes."

"Did they tell you I wouldn't come back?"

"They implied you wouldn't. They said you had no reason to. Which is true."

"Cesare, I've told you, I have lots of reasons. I love you."

"Why?"

Chiaro paused. "Because I do."

"See? You don't have a reason."

Chiaro rolled his eyes and gave a sigh, but he smiled as he did so, as if he thought Cesare were being ridiculous. He started the horse walking again. "As you wish," he said, taking on a mock-martyr tone. "I will attempt to sum up my feelings in some logical explanation that the mastermind can understand. You know, I doubt you could do the same."

"Of course I could. I love you because you're my angel."

"Well, then I love you because you're my master."

"But… that doesn't make sense."

Chiaro turned to him with a grin, eyebrows raised.

"It doesn't, and stop laughing at me. Why would you like me because of that?"

Chiaro gave another sigh. "All right. I love… your courage. That you never give up, no matter what gets thrown at you, and you usually just laugh it in the face. I love it that even though you want power, you still won't give into the demons. I can't imagine how hard that must be. I love it that in spite of you constantly acting like you don't really care, you're willing to go great lengths for the people you care about. I love how passionate you become about everything that's really important to you. I love how you laugh at me when I take myself too seriously. Really, I just love hearing you laugh, and seeing you smile… especially when you smile at me. I love it that you don't seem to care about status, even though you're one of the most powerful men in Europe… that you treat people based on how much you like or respect them, not on their positions. I mean, case in point, I'm a peasant, but you treat me like a friend." He paused. "Is that enough?"

Cesare frowned a little, feeling a bit confused. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Chiaro actually _did_ have reasons? These things were true, but he'd never thought of them particularly as traits to admire. "But…."

"But what?"

Cesare frowned. "Nothing… I guess."

Chiaro grinned again. "Quite finished arguing with me?" He set the horse into a trot.

Cesare thought for a minute, trying to understand what he wanted to know so he could ask it. "Chiaro… what if I didn't need you?"

"Hmm?"

"If I didn't need you. Would you still want to stay with me?"

"Yes."

Cesare blinked. Chiaro hadn't even given the question a second's thought. "But I thought that was why you started following me."

"It was. But it's not the only reason I stay."

Cesare sighed a little. "I don't understand." When Chiaro didn't answer, he sighed again. "Chiaro, I don't understand. I don't even pay you. You never ask for anything. What are you getting out of this?"

Chiaro slowed the horse and looked back at him, seemingly confused. Then he smiled a little. "You don't get it."

"I _know_ I don't. I _said_ I don't. So explain."

Chiaro laughed. "A servant's reward is his master's goodwill."

"What is that supposed to mean? I'm asking for an explanation, not proverbs."

"That _is_ my explanation."

"I don't understand it."

"That," Chiaro said with a patient smile, "is because you're not a servant." Cesare looked at him pleadingly, but Chiaro just laughed again. "We're almost there," he said. "Listen. Can't you hear the music?"

Cesare listened and nodded. They were quite close. The music was very cheerful. The crowd they were approaching obviously was as well. Chiaro dismounted and tied his horse to a hitching post, then helped Cesare down. "You okay?" Chiaro asked. "You look a little nervous."

"I'm fine."

"Want to learn the steps first?"

"Please," Cesare replied. He was feeling very out of place and wondering if he really should have come. He was dressed simply, but he was still wearing silk.

"Don't be shy," Chiaro said. "It's dark, and no one's paying attention anyway."

Just then, a voice called out from the crowd. "Chiaro!"

Chiaro turned around, surprised, to see a stocky man with a graying beard who was grinning broadly. "Barnabas!" he cried and, to Cesare's shock, ran forward to embrace the man tightly. "I didn't know you were here!" He let go to hold the man at arm's length.

_So much for no one paying attention,_ Cesare thought, trying to look invisible.

"If you are surprised, I am in shock," the man replied with a strong Jewish accent. "Where have you been for all these years? And who is this pretty little—oh," he broke off as Cesare stepped closer, miffed. "I apologize, signore."

Chiaro grinned. "Yeah, you'd _better_ eat your words," he said.

"Ah, now I see how it is," Barnabas said with a mournful sigh. "I always wondered why it was you would not marry my daughter."

Chiaro burst out laughing. "I didn't marry your daughter because she was in love with someone else, you old humbug. Not to mention you said I'd have to convert."

"Would have been a small price to pay," the man said with a shrug. Cesare was beginning to feel a little impatient. Chiaro was supposed to be his partner, not off talking to some strange man.

"Actually, I'm really glad you're here," Chiaro said. "I always hoped I could introduce you." He put an arm around a startled Cesare's shoulders and pulled him the rest of the way forward. "Cesare, this is Barnabas, an old merchant friend of mine who comes through Rome every so often. Barnabas, this is my master, Cesare." There seemed to be a special emphasis on the word "master."

"Your master?" Barnabas asked, looking shocked. Was he angry? Why had Chiaro said it like that? Why not just introduce Cesare as his friend? But a second later, Barnabas broke into a grin. "You're joking!" he said. "The eternal stray has finally found himself a master?"

"I have," Chiaro said, beaming. His face was so bright and happy that Cesare couldn't do anything but stare.

"Is he everything you hoped for?" Barnabas asked earnestly.

"More," Chiaro replied, grinning. "He's also my best friend."

"My boy, I am so happy for you!" the man cried, drawing Chiaro into another tight hug. "So that's why you haven't been around!"

Cesare's mind was reeling. Chiaro was happy to have a master? _Proud_ to have a master? That was something to congratulate? He couldn't help starting when the man let go of Chiaro to suddenly take hold of Cesare's shoulders.

"You take special good care of him, yes?" the man said. "Or you may find an army of peasants at your door demanding to know what became of their thief lord." He was grinning.

"I'll… try to keep that in mind," Cesare said a little nervously.

"He's kidding," Chiaro said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh…." Cesare tried to smile as the man let go, but he was still bewildered.

"I'm teaching Cesare how to dance," Chiaro told Barnabas.

"Oh, I see," Barnabas said. "Then I will leave you to it. Come and meet my granddaughter sometime tonight."

"I will," Chiaro promised, waving as the man walked back to the crowd. He smiled at Cesare. "Why do you look so surprised?"

"You're… proud of me," Cesare said.

"Of course," Chiaro said, grinning. "Now pay attention."

It took about five minutes for Cesare to discover he loved dancing, or at least loved dancing with Chiaro. He stepped in and out of Chiaro's light, moving too quickly for the demons to land, and eventually so fast that there was no room for thought, only exhilaration. Chiaro laughed, spinning him in circles and—Cesare was sure—inventing half of the maneuvers they were doing on the spot. Cesare found himself laughing as well, and simply let Chiaro lead. Chiaro was obviously used to dancing with people who had never danced before, which made Cesare wonder if he'd always deliberately picked people on the edge of the crowd to dance with. It seemed like something he would do.

At length, the song ended, and Cesare stood, breathing hard and laughing. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, that was fun," Chiaro said, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him over to a barrel of watered ale for thirsty dancers. Presently, Barnabas came over with his four-year-old granddaughter, who insisted on dancing the next song with Chiaro.

Cesare smiled as he watched Chiaro spin the tiny girl in circles, and was startled by a hand on his shoulder that turned out to belong to Barnabas. "I am glad he has found you," the man said.

Cesare blinked. "Barnabas," he said, "I don't understand. Why is Chiaro so pleased to have a master?"

"Ah, now there is a question," Barnabas replied. "I did not always understand it myself, since I am a man who likes his freedom. So is Chiaro in some ways, but…." The man paused and then motioned Cesare to a few of the empty seats. "When Chiaro was a boy," Barnabas said, "he had three great desires. One, of course, was his father's freedom. Another was to wash his hands of his father's business. But the one he spoke the most of was his desire to find someone to call 'master.' You would never think it, because Chiaro only ever worked as a mercenary. But that was because his master could not just be anyone. He had to be someone special, who Chiaro loved and respected enough to serve unflinchingly, whatever he was asked to do. Someone he would not only die for, but kill for as well."

"But why?" Cesare asked. "Why not simply remain a mercenary and hold onto his freedom?"

Barnabas smiled a little sadly. "Chiaro had lost his family, and his father was a prisoner who rarely even recognized him. Nearly everyone scorned him as a thief or feared him as an occasional assassin, when he was desperate enough for money to feed his father. Chiaro was keenly aware of just how lonely freedom could be. He wanted to belong to someone, someone who he, in turn, could dedicate his life to."

Cesare thought about this as he watched Chiaro dance. He remembered their school days, when Chiaro had been alarmingly naïve about almost everything, especially politics, and had made any number of social blunders, a few of which had almost gotten him killed by hot-blooded classmates. Cesare often got frustrated trying to teach him everything, and Chiaro would occasionally respond with his own frustration. "What am I even doing here, then?" he once asked, exasperated. "I obviously have no place here. Why don't I just stay at home and save you the trouble?"

Cesare had been a little alarmed that he was losing his tenuous hold on his assassin. "Of course you have a place," he replied. "By my side. You belong to me." By which he meant for Chiaro not to get any ideas about leaving when Cesare wanted him there.

Chiaro had had the strangest reaction to these words. He suddenly went pink, and looked away, completely failing to hide the inexplicable smile that had spread across his face. He'd muttered something about promising to try harder and went back to his books. Cesare had stood there, completely confused, wondering why Chiaro never reacted the way he was supposed to.

"Even at the cost of his freedom?" Cesare asked Barnabas.

"He hasn't lost his freedom. You don't hold him against his will." Barnabas smiled a little. "You can't. Not someone like Chiaro. But he won't leave you either, not unless you send him away. His heart belongs to you. He gave it to you when he chose you as his master. And from the look of it, I don't think he could take it back if he wanted to."

"Chiaro's heart… belongs… to me…?" Just asking the question felt unreasonably audacious.

"Yes," Barnabas replied with conviction. He met Cesare's eyes, quite serious. "So mind you take care of it."

_Chiaro's heart belongs to me._ Cesare felt his own heart skip a beat. _It's mine. I need to protect it._ How strange. When had Cesare's definition of "mine" changed from "mine to do with as I please" to "mine to protect and cherish"? _But… I can't… can I?_ He watched Chiaro set down the little girl and get her a drink of watered ale. He had to somehow warn Chiaro, tell him to take his heart back before it was shattered. Then Chiaro looked over at him and grinned, and Cesare's heart skipped another beat. _No… I want it. I don't want him to take it back. I'll protect it, somehow. After all, he chose me._

"You okay?" Chiaro asked, coming closer. "You look a bit dazed."

Cesare didn't respond immediately. _Why?_ he thought. _Why choose me?_

Chiaro waved a hand in front of Cesare's face. "Hello," he sang, "Anyone in there?"

Cesare smiled. _Thank you._ He didn't need to know why. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he somehow believed it now, and he was grateful. Profoundly grateful. _He chose me._

Chiaro gave him a pleading look. "Um, Cesare, are you drunk or something?"

Cesare started laughing. He drew Chiaro into a sudden hug. _I choose you._

Chiaro was so surprised that it took him a second to respond, and even when he did he felt a little dazed, though extremely happy. He sensed the subtle differences between times that Cesare would hug him, and this was only the second time Cesare had hugged him without some desire to receive or give comfort. And the first time Chiaro had had to ask. "Cesare?"

"Thank you," Cesare said, still hugging him.

Chiaro blinked. "For what?"

Cesare started to laugh again, true, happy laughter, and he let go a little, arms still around Chiaro's neck, face so close their noses were almost touching. "For being your usual stupid self," he replied, making it sound like a term of endearment. He raised himself to kiss Chiaro's forehead, then nestled his head into the crook of his neck. "I'm lucky to have someone as ridiculous as you for my best friend."

"You know I have no idea what you're talking about," Chiaro said, smiling as he hugged Cesare a little closer, completely disregarding the glances they were getting. He really had missed Cesare today. He'd been in his own world, and yet surrounded by strangers. Cesare's embrace seemed to welcome him home. No matter how lonely the rest of the world was, he would always have a home with Cesare. "Really, I should be thanking you."

Instead of responding to this, Cesare came close so that his mouth was right next to Chiaro's ear. "You belong to me," he whispered. "I want to belong to you too. May I?"

Chiaro's arms tightened around his friend involuntarily. Did Cesare have any idea what he was saying? What on earth had he been talking to Barnabas about? "I'd… I'd like that more than anything," Chiaro replied, trying not to sound as emotional as he felt. Cesare couldn't actually be saying he now wanted to give his allegiance to Chiaro rather than to his cause. Chiaro didn't know what he was saying instead, but….

"Thank you." Cesare still held onto him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I know." His face was hidden, but his voice was smiling. "Thank you."

"Ah." Now Chiaro understood. "You believe me now?"

Cesare nodded against his shoulder.

"Good." He rubbed Cesare's back. "I'll have to thank Barnabas." The last song began. "Hey, did you want to dance one more time?"

**A/N 2: So, this is like my favorite chapter. Yes, I definitely made a completely fluffy chapter right after a chapter where Cesare's contemplating suicide. Just for the record, Cesare doesn't actually know the specifics of what he's promising. He's more promising to try to be worthy of Chiaro's heart, which includes protecting it. He's actually still a little freaked out by the responsibility, but he's so overjoyed that Chiaro chose him of all people that he's currently ignoring the obvious problem of his demons and his plans for world domination.**


	12. Come Back

**Chapter 12: Come Back**

**Warning: Okay, I know I said at the beginning that there was no yaoi or shonen-ai. I suppose some of this chapter could technically qualify as shonen-ai. But since there's so much else tied into it, and it's anything but fluffy, I wasn't sure it really counted. Nothing except suggestiveness, though.**

Cesare paced around his room, completely unable to sleep. Michelotto _should_ have been back by now. He should have been back the day before _yesterday_. Where _was_ he? Had something happened? Was he all right? It briefly crossed his mind that Chiaro might be sulking from having been made to kill, but that wouldn't make sense. This was only the second person he'd had Michelotto kill in the last month. One of the other Italian lords was getting out of control, suddenly rallying his own army, and he seemed even more ruthless than Cesare, if that were possible. Well, yes, these days it was definitely possible. Especially around Chiaro, Cesare was about as ruthless as a kitten. But Chiaro had actually _agreed_ that Pisano needed to be dealt with, and didn't even seem upset about being sent to kill him, particularly after learning that Pisano took prisoners and tortured them to death.

"Master Cesare?" Volpe stood at the door. "Are you still awake?"

"What does it look like?" Cesare growled.

"Have you slept at all since Chiaro's been gone?"

"A few scattered hours. It doesn't matter. Has there been any news whatsoever?"

"You're worried about him."

"Of course I'm worried!"

Volpe sighed. "You should sleep. Would it help if _I _held you?"

Cesare blinked at the offer. Would it? Volpe couldn't drive off the demons, but there was comfort simply in being held. But he didn't really want to sleep in comfort while he was worried about Chiaro. And in some odd way, he felt he would be betraying Chiaro if he slept with Volpe, particularly since he doubted Volpe's motives were as innocent as Chiaro's. "No… I don't think so." He sat down and looked at his hands. Above the palm, the skin on his fingers was scaly and reptilian, and his nails had become claws. They'd been like that since yesterday, when his body had gone into spasms from trying to fight the demons and his hands had come out like this. Of course, if he'd simply given in, given them a bit more control, it wouldn't happened, but Cesare wasn't ready to do that yet. But if Chiaro didn't come back soon….

"I wanted to talk to you about him, actually," Volpe said, sitting on Cesare's bed and motioning for him to move closer… as though he were Cesare's father, or some type of priestly confessor. A bit distracted by amusement over the thought, Cesare did so. "Do you love him?" Volpe asked.

Cesare blinked. That was a highly personal question, coming from Volpe. He hesitated, wondering what Volpe was getting at and how he was defining "love." "He's my best friend," Cesare replied. It was always best to give answers that contained information the questioner already knew.

"But do you love him?"

"Doesn't 'best friend' usually imply love?"

"Not necessarily in your case."

Cesare wondered if he ought to be offended, and it was partly out of defensiveness that he answered, "Yes, I do."

"I see." Volpe's tone was disapproving.

"And I don't remember asking for your opinion," Cesare said, frowning at him.

"Loving someone like him will only make things harder for you. He's a hindrance to your plans. You know that."

"Chiaro is a devoted friend who has always served me faithfully," Cesare said.

"Putting constant limits on your ability to increase your power is serving you faithfully?"

So that was what Volpe as getting at. Cesare frowned at his hands. "Tagio, I don't _want_ them to take me over. I _want_ to hold onto my humanity."

"Because of Chiaro."

Cesare thought about this. What would he have done with the demons if Chiaro hadn't joined him? He shivered at the terrifying yet somehow thrillingly attractive vision of having complete power to conquer the world, of giving the demons full control and having everything under his dominion. No smiling, friendly, affectionate, confusing friend to hold them back and drive away the nightmares. No need for him, because Cesare would _be_ the nightmare. A beautiful, powerful, terrifying nightmare.

The demons seemed to be reaching out for him, offering the ability to make this vision a reality. They surrounded him, choking him. "Chiaro," he whispered. But Chiaro's light was too far away. All was darkness. He called on his memories: Chiaro coming into the room with sword drawn, then dropping it to run forward and embrace him. Chiaro on the bridge, pulling him out of the darkness into light. Dancing with Chiaro a few weeks ago, finally secure in his love, finally able to really love him in return. This memory strengthened his resolve. He belonged to Chiaro. He had made that decision. If he became the terrifying, beautiful nightmare the demons were demanding, he would no longer even love Chiaro, much less belong to him. He would probably hurt him, maybe even kill him. His heart cringed back from the thought, and suddenly he was shaking, head buried in his demonic hands. "Chiaro," he whispered again. "Chiaro…." _Come back, come back! Chiaro!_

"Cesare?" Volpe's voice, coming through a hazy cloud of demons, sounded concerned.

"I don't want it, I don't want to," Cesare said, shaking his head. He closed his eyes tightly. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost feel his love for Chiaro cushioning his heart, surrounding it in just enough light to protect it from the demons. His body went into spasms for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, his palms had transformed along with his fingers. He closed his eyes again. _Chiaro!_

A hand on his shoulder. He looked around to see Volpe. "I'm sorry," Volpe said. "I only thought it might be easier on you to cut ties with him, rather than keep fighting."

Cesare smiled a little, a smile entirely without mirth. "That's not why," he said, his voice hoarse. "You see it too… the vision of me as the beautiful nightmare… and it's that potential that you admire, isn't it?" Volpe said nothing and Cesare looked away. "That nightmare… is what Chiaro promised to kill me before I become."

"Which is why I say you should cut ties with him. He has no right to do that!"

"I asked him to."

"Why? You said yourself, the vision is beautiful. Why are you so desperate to remain human? Is there any reason at all, other than the fact that that's what Chiaro prefers?"

"I belong to him."

There was a short pause. "What?" Volpe asked, his voice tense.

"I belong to Chiaro."

"What do you mean, you belong to him?" Volpe sounded suddenly extremely alarmed.

"He… I want to belong to him. I want to love him."

Volpe's eyes were wide. "You can't possibly be serious. What next, are you going to give up everything just to make him happy? Be his housewife? Master Cesare, you are a _king_! You cannot _belong_ to anyone."

Cesare blinked at this. A king could not belong to anyone? He frowned. How very lonely. "No… I mean… I just want…." He looked at Volpe, willing him to understand. He felt suddenly like a child, which was fine when he was with Chiaro, but not when he was with Volpe. "Chiaro and Lucrezia are the only things in all the world that are still precious to me, and I've lost Lucrezia because I couldn't return her feelings and used them instead. But I _can_ return Chiaro's feelings, and I don't want to lose that ability. I _like_ the feeling of love. You don't understand. Conquering the world is important, but this is important to me too." He stood up, and started to pace when he felt Volpe's hand on his shoulder.

"Cesare."

Cesare blinked. Volpe didn't usually use his name without putting "Master" before it.

"Cesare, Chiaro is not the only person who can love you."

Cesare turned to face him and froze a little when Volpe began to stroke his hair away from his face. He was too confused to give any resistance when Volpe led him back to sit on the bed. Volpe drew him into a close embrace, and a hoard of demons surrounded them, making Cesare's body burn. "I," Volpe said softly, "Will give you more than he ever would, if you desire it."

"If I desire it," Cesare repeated. He knew what Volpe was implying, and he was a little startled at how good it sounded. He didn't even like Volpe. What was wrong with him? The demons whirled around him, filling him with pleasant nightmares. Apparently they approved of this perspective union. "But I don't want that from Chiaro," Cesare said, trying to keep his mind. This wasn't him. It was the demons. _He_ loved _Chiaro_, and _not_ like _that_. At least, he was fairly sure he didn't. It was hard to know anything for sure right now.

"Do you want it from me?" He had pulled away so his face was only inches from Cesare's. But his eyes were still cool and calculating. The eyes of someone who would seduce his master for the purpose of drawing him away from someone he considered dangerous. "I will help you achieve what you desire. You will be the world conqueror you desire to be. I will help you take flight. All he will ever do is tie you down. I will give you all that you desire, and you need never belong to me. You need never belong to anyone. All will be under your dominion. If you desire it."

Cesare tried to breathe evenly. It was difficult. Volpe understood him, he realized. He understood Cesare's twisted mind, understood all of the dark passions he normally suppressed, and he was appealing to every one of them, trying to call them out. And he was right, Cesare realized. Cesare was much more like Volpe than he would ever be like Chiaro. With Volpe at his side, both of them being calculating masterminds, there was no end to what he might achieve, and on the side Cesare would still have this mockery of love in case he ever got lonely or missed Chiaro. Yes, even with the demons flooding through him, trying to push him to close the space between himself and Volpe, Cesare knew that it would only ever be a mockery of love if he chose to be with Volpe.

"_I want to belong to you too." _His own voice whispered in the back of his mind. _"May I?"_ He had felt Chiaro's arms tighten around him. Heard the surprising amount of emotion in Chiaro's voice when he said he'd like that more than anything. Cesare hadn't completely understood, but he'd understood enough to know that if he gave in to Volpe, Chiaro would lose his best friend. _I'm important to him. _How strange. He had always thought how important Chiaro was to him, but he had never considered before now that he was important to Chiaro. _He'll come back. I need to make sure I'm still here._

"No," Cesare said at last, fighting the demons that tried to strangle his words. "No, I don't." He pushed Volpe away, and then a fluttering in the corner caught his eye. He jumped to his feet.

"Cesare?" Volpe said, but Cesare wasn't listening.

"Niccolo Machiavelli!" he shouted as the moth headed for the window. "Get back here!"

The moth fluttered back in. "And here I thought I was interrupting something." He took his human form, looking smug.

"Where is Chiaro?"

Niccolo raised his eyebrows. "Well, that would be an interesting piece of information, wouldn't it?"

…

_Chiaro!_ Cesare's voice echoed through Chiaro's mind, pulling at his heart. _Come back! Chiaro!_ He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back his tears. Cesare needed him, and he couldn't go to him. He forced himself not to cry out as his skin was burned by the brand again and again. "What's the matter with you?" Lord Pisano said, standing a few paces off and watching. "Just say you'll betray your master."

"I'd rather die," Chiaro said.

"Yes, but would he rather you die? You can stop for now," he said to the torturer, then turned back to Chiaro, beginning to circle the stone slab on which Chiaro lay, looking like a stalking lion. His eyes were golden with slit pupils. He was a demoniac, worse than Cesare. Was he what Cesare would become if Chiaro could never go back to him? Chiaro closed his eyes, not wanting to see. Was that why Cesare was calling him? Because the demons were trying to take him over? _Don't let them,_ Chiaro thought, wondering if his words would reach Cesare. _Please don't. God, don't let them._

"Actually, I'm wondering what's taking him so long," Pisano continued. "I sent him a message. Not directly, but through a secondary source. I would have thought once he heard you were slowly being tortured to death, he'd come rescue his beloved assassin."

_Damn it!_ "He's not… stupid," Chiaro said. "He must know it's a trap. He won't come. I'm… expendable." It was hard to really believe this when he could still hear Cesare calling for him in his mind, but he didn't want Cesare to die for him. Should he kill himself? But then who would keep Cesare's demons under control? _Damn it all_.

"Hmm… perhaps. Perhaps this isn't even necessary. He has likely already have given in to the darkness. Soon, he will be just like me." Pisano smiled malevolently.

Chiaro opened his eyes and looked at Pisano. Maybe he was right. Maybe Cesare would become like him. And yet… _"Friendship goes both ways, Chiaro… I want to belong to you too."_ No. Cesare wasn't the same. If he did lose himself, it wouldn't be by choice. "No," he said. "He won't."

Pisano cocked a perfect eyebrow.

"He will never… be like you. Cesare will never be like you!"

Pisano smiled a little. "We shall see, won't we? Or at least, I will. I believe your time is running out. Though, you never know. If I'm feeling generous, I might let you live long enough to learn of his ruin."

Chiaro closed his eyes. Would Cesare think he wasn't coming back? Would he believe Chiaro had betrayed him? Would that be reason enough to give himself to the demons? He squeezed his eyes tighter against the tears. _I'll find a way back. Please, Cesare, wait for me. Please._ "Never," he choked out. "He'll never… be like you."

**A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, you hate me. But I need **_**something**_** to get these two to stop being so dense. On the brighter side, Cesare is **_**actually**_** starting to get it, **_**finally**_**. In fact, I was quite proud of him in this chapter. Just hang on until the next chapter, okay?**


	13. Knight

**Chapter 13: Knight**

**A/N: As you saw in the last chapter, Cesare almost gets it now. Currently, Chiaro is the one lagging. A lot. Poor Cesare.**

**A/N 2: I do like Volpe's loyalty. It's pretty much the only thing I like about him, though. **

"Where is he?" Cesare demanded again, grabbing Niccolo's collar. "You say you know all and see all, so where is Chiaro?"

"I do," Niccolo said calmly, "but I should tell you first, Chiaro doesn't want you to know where he is."

Cesare blinked. "What?"

"He doesn't want you to know where he is."

"Why?"

"Because he's afraid you'll come after him if you know."

Cesare's mind momentarily went blank. "Wait…." _"If you left me, I'd hunt you down and drag you back and probably put you to torture for betraying me."_ His own words echoed in his mind. But that didn't make sense. Chiaro couldn't have betrayed him, because Chiaro loved him, and had chosen him, and—damn it all, he was not going to listen to the demons who tried to tell him otherwise! Last time they'd been wrong—they were wrong this time too. All the same, he couldn't help the creeping numbness that began to flow through him.

"Chiaro betrayed him?" Volpe's voice. Niccolo said nothing. Cesare felt a hand on his shoulder. "Cesare?"

Cesare didn't turn. He was thinking fast. He knew Chiaro. He trusted Chiaro. Chiaro couldn't have betrayed him, because he was important to Chiaro, so there had to be another explanation.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Volpe said. There was a pause. "Honestly, I probably should have said something. I've seen this coming for a while. That was part of why I didn't want you to be so close to him."

Cesare turned to him. "What do you mean, you saw this coming?" he demanded. It wasn't true. It didn't make sense. Chiaro was happy with him. _Happy?_ The demons whispered mockingly. _Happy to be with a demoniac? Are you mad?_ "No," Cesare said out loud. "I'm his best friend. He wouldn't betray me."

Volpe paused. "I think he's wanted to be free for a while now."

"But…." But he'd been so proud when he'd introduced Cesare as his master.

"I think he hoped by being so affectionate lately, he might purge you of the demons completely. It didn't work, and he panicked."

"Why would… no, he said he wanted to stay." Cesare remembered him laughing as they danced… he'd come back just so Cesare could be his partner.

"Of course he said that to _you_. But you don't see him when he's by himself. He's spent a lot of time looking out the window lately. I asked him what was wrong once, and he told me he was only wondering what it would have been like if things had been different."

Cesare's heart pounded. No, he trusted Chiaro. Chiaro wouldn't betray him, whatever Volpe said. He must have been talking about something else, because Cesare knew Chiaro hadn't left him, not of his own accord at any rate. He looked back at Niccolo, who was raising his eyebrows. _Chiaro_….

"_Will you be all right for that long without me? I mean, it'll take at least three days."_

_Cesare raised an eyebrow. "I think I'll survive. Just… be careful. Pisano is a dangerous man."_

_Chiaro smiled and donned his mask. "I've dealt with my share of dangerous men," he said with a wink. "Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it."_

Chiaro had promised he'd be back. Why would he go to the trouble of promising to come back if he intended to run away? "There… there has to be another explanation," he said.

Niccolo smiled a little. "Does there indeed?"

"He's… he's not dead, is he?" After all, being in a place he didn't want Cesare to go could have several meanings.

"No."

Cesare sighed, his breath shaking. "Is he… is he in some kind of trouble? And… he doesn't want me to come after him because he's afraid I might be implicated?"

Niccolo raised his eyebrows again.

"Damn it, tell me!"

"Cesare, think about where you sent him."

Cesare had sent Chiaro to kill Lord Pisano. Who took prisoners. And then tortured them to death. He felt the blood drain from his face. "But… no, he's Michelotto, he couldn't have been caught!"

"It only has to happen once."

"But he's alive?"

"Yes. Pisano is keeping him alive for a very specific purpose."

"Which is?"

The moth-sorcerer raised his eyebrows again. "Isn't that obvious?"

"He wants me. And he's using Chiaro as bait, and that's why Chiaro doesn't want me to know where he is, because he doesn't want me to go after him and fall for the trap."

Niccolo slowly clapped his hands together a few times. "Chiaro would probably be pleased at your faith in his loyalty."

Cesare ignored him and started changing into his riding clothes.

"Cesare, you're _walking_ into his trap?" Volpe demanded.

"_Master_ Cesare," Cesare corrected, not responding to the question. He'd had enough of Volpe being familiar with him.

"You probably ought to know Chiaro has legitimate reason to be worried," Niccolo said mildly. "Keep in mind, he _did_ catch _the_ Michelotto."

"I'll figure it out."

"If you say so. By the way, the reason I'm here at all is because several people have come with news of Chiaro's whereabouts, and for some reason you never heard. I figured you deserved a fair chance."

Cesare turned to Volpe, who didn't even look guilty. He turned away in disgust.

"Master Cesare, I won't let you do this!" Volpe grasped hold of his arm.

Cesare jerked away. "I'm not asking you to come with me, Tagio. I know you hate him. But I will rescue him, or die trying."

"Then you're on your own."

"As you wish."

"Good luck," Niccolo said, turning back into a moth.

Cesare swept out of the room, barely making time to get money, supplies, and his riding cloak before running out to the stables. He rode for hours until his horse could go no further. He wanted to press on, but killing the horse would only set him back. He looked around and noticed the light of a village nearby. He entered the village, leading his exhausted horse. It was just dawn. Would anyone be awake? "A horse!" he yelled, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet of this town. "For God's sake, a horse!"

A peasant looked out his door. "Sir?"

"Have you a fast horse?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will give you this horse, and…" he counted out gold pieces from his pouch. "And this, for your horse."

The man looked at the gold, eyes widening. "Yes, sir."

Within ten minutes, Cesare had a fresh horse and was riding like the wind toward Pisano.

...

Volpe hadn't stopped pacing since Cesare left. Was it really right for him to abandon his master because he had obviously fallen in love with Volpe's rival and refused to be the all-powerful conqueror he desired? It had been half an hour already. Volpe should have been with him. He sighed. It didn't matter. It didn't matter that Cesare would never do this for him, would never side with him no matter what he offered. It didn't matter that he was weak because of Chiaro. Cesare was his master, and it was his duty to serve. Rushing to the stables, he mounted his own horse and set off after Cesare.

...

Chiaro had given up trying to plan his escape. His hands and feet had been in chains ever since coming, all separately chained to the wall so that loosing one would do no good. He had tried everything to loose the manacles around his feet so he could bite his hands off and escape that way, but to no avail. Of course, biting both his hands and feet off would be pointless, because then he would be unable to run. Not to mention he would bleed to death. He had tried filing the chains against the wall, but the iron was obviously stronger than the stone. Even if filing the chains or biting his limbs off were an option, he was under almost constant surveillance, and constant torture.

Even if they let him go at this point, he wasn't sure he could make it back. He was tied to the rack, and his shoulders were already dislocated. His entire body was in crippling pain. Would Cesare be all right without him? Was there someone else in the world who could perhaps fill his place? Someone else who could send the demons away? _Please, God, let there be._ He didn't cry out as he was whipped again, but it was more because of exhaustion now than defiance. _I'm sorry, Cesare._ He would never see his master again. He would never again hear him laugh. He would never again see the gleam in his eyes when he started planning his next move. He would never again be able to hold him and send away his demons. Tears began to course his cheeks, and he almost lost awareness of his torturer because the pain in his heart dominated. Oblivion beckoned to him and he welcomed it.

"Get away from him!"

Yanked away from oblivion, Chiaro opened his eyes at the familiar voice to see Cesare, come from nowhere, rushing at him with a sword, and a second later his torturer was dead. For a split second, Chiaro's heart leapt. Cesare was here! His master had come for him! Then he remembered this was exactly what he didn't want. He watched as the room erupted into havoc, and the demons surrounded Cesare so badly he was almost invisible. "Ce… sare…." He tried to take a breath to call louder.

"Never touch him! He's mine! Mine!"

Chiaro closed his eyes as Cesare practically tore his assailants apart, cutting them into pieces with his sword. He was giving the demons too much control in his anger over Chiaro. Just like Vanozza. No! "Cesare…" he choked. "S… top!" But there was no stopping Cesare. Within minutes, everyone in the room but himself and Chiaro was dead, and Cesare was standing there, panting, covered in blood, his eyes glowing with demonic fury.

_Oh, God…._ "Cesa… re….?"

Cesare turned to him, eyes golden and wild.

"Come… hurry…."

Cesare started toward him, then suddenly fell to his knees with a cry of agony.

"Cesare…." Chiaro's vision blurred with tears. "Please…."

Cesare looked at him, golden eyes wide. They flickered black, then flickered again, like a candle trying to go out. Then he doubled over again, clutching himself and moaning. "No…." He looked at Chiaro again, eyes still flickering, but slightly more sane. Then, quickly, he got to his feet, drew his sword, and cut through the ropes that bound Chiaro to the rack.

Chiaro's shoulders jerked back, and his vision went black with the excruciating pain. When he came to, he was in Cesare's arms, being held much, much too tightly. Chiaro gasped for breath, smothered by Cesare's hold on him. "Cesa…re…" he said. "That… hur… ts." Didn't Cesare realize he was covered in whiplashes, gashes, brands, and bruises? Cesare's fingers dug into him, and Chiaro gave a gasp of pain. His vision went black again, and the next thing he knew, Cesare was shouting at him.

"Chiaro? Chiaro, wake up! Chiaro!"

Chiaro blinked his eyes open and realized he was now being held at arm's length. "Hey… calm… down… I'm okay." Well, "okay" was relative, but he wasn't dead, which was the important thing.

"Chi… Chiaro…." There were tears in Cesare's eyes, which were now pools of gold and obsidian. "I'm not too late… thank… thank God…." He was breathing heavily. "Don't worry… I won't hurt you."

Chiaro was confused. Why would Cesare hurt him? Then he looked around. Demons were flying everywhere, away from Cesare's body, trying to return to it, slowly weakening. Some of them passed over and around the mutilated corpses, but none of them seemed whole enough to interest the demons. How Cesare had managed to remain sane at all was beyond his comprehension. He slowly breathed out. It hurt to breathe. His whole body just wanted to pass out. "Are… you… okay?" he asked Cesare, his words faltering through pain and worry.

Cesare gave a huff that sounded almost like a sob. "Stupid," he said. "Stupid Chiaro. You shouldn't even be asking me that." He drew Chiaro close again, this time holding him very, very gently. "I'm sorry… I didn't find out until last night… I should have gone looking for you." His arms grew a little tighter for a moment, and he kissed Chiaro's forehead before pulling away. He drew in a shaky breath and got to his feet. "Who… who holds the keys?" he asked, looking around at the corpses.

"Pisa… no. He's… not here."

"Wonderful," Cesare said sarcastically. He took a few steps away and was immediately attacked by the demons. He gave a grunt and clutched at himself.

"Cesare?"

"I'm fine," he said. He picked up a few torture instruments with fine, sharp points and turned back to Chiaro. Suddenly, he fell to his knees again. Chiaro close his eyes briefly. Was this what hell was like, watching your loved ones be attacked by demons and being unable to help. When he opened them, Cesare was panting, still gripping this instruments in one of his hands. He was whispering something. Chiaro tried to make it out. "Mine," Cesare whispered, "to protect. Mine to protect."

_Huh?_ Chiaro watched as Cesare managed to get to his feet and came the rest of the way. Chiaro winced a little a the sight of the instruments of torture, but didn't pull away. Cesare took off the gloves he was wearing, and Chiaro gasped. Up to his forearms, both of Cesare's hands were reptilian, demonic claws.

"Ce… sare, your… hands…?"

"Them," Cesare said simply, beginning to pick at the locks.

"Now?"

"Um…." Cesare looked at one of his hands. "It wasn't on the wrists before. That must be from just now."

"Cesare!" Chiaro watched, alarmed, as Cesare tried ineptly to pick the locks on his manacles. "What… are you… _doing_ here?" he demanded, raising his voice and exhausting himself.

"Do you still love me?" Cesare's eyes suddenly bored into his, and his hands on the locks stopped.

"I… yes…."

"Will you stay with me?"

"If… I live."

"Even with these hands?"

"Yes… but Ce… sare… fighting… for me… will make… it worse." Damn it, he could barely talk. "Why… did… you come?"

"To rescue you. Obviously."

"I said… you would…n't come… I thought… you… were smart … it's… a trap… you… idiot."

"How on earth do you have the energy to argue with me when you've been hurt this badly?" Cesare asked, sounding mildly interested and _not_ sounding like he'd registered a word of what Chiaro had said. "Damn him, what did they do, pull your fingernails out?"

They had, but Chiaro didn't bother to say so. "Cesare… the king… is not… supposed… to rescue… his knight. You should… go… while you can." Judging from Cesare's lack of skill, he probably wouldn't be finished picking these locks until Pisano and his men had come and killed them both.

"I'm not letting them kill you."

"But…."

"Chiaro, _this_ is what happens when you're not with me," Cesare said, holding up one of his hands. "What do you think would happen to me if you died?"

"But… you…."

"Stop arguing with me."

"But…."

Cesare sighed heavily. Then something like a smile passed over his face for a second before he became serious again. "Look. I think I'm in love with you."

These words took a second to register. When they did, Chiaro's thoughts scattered. "Wh… what?"

"I'm in love with you. Will you marry me once we return to Rome?"

Chiaro stared at him, wondering if he'd completely lost his mind. "Uh… m… m… but…."

"I know, technically I'm not supposed to have any sort of lover, being a cardinal, but I think I could make an exception for you."

Chiaro's mind whirled. He could barely take the shock, let alone the thought of how badly this would mess everything up. Hadn't Cesare said… and why on earth was he talking about this _now_? To say why he was so desperate to rescue Chiaro? Chiaro's stomach turned a little. What was he going to do?

Cesare looked up at him, seeming a bit concerned. He smiled a little and looked back at the lock. "Think about it before you answer."

Chiaro was trying to do everything but. He had to figure out some way to fix this. Some way to take their relationship back to normal. What had happened? Was this some kind of bizarre dream?

"Of course, Volpe will be terribly jealous, but I didn't think you'd mind that."

"Ce… sare…."

"Shh. I have a confidence for you."

Chiaro said nothing, not sure he wanted to know.

Cesare smiled at him and leaned close. For a second Chiaro was terrified that he was going to try to kiss him, but instead he put his lips close to Chiaro's ear. "I'm joking," he whispered.

Chiaro blinked. "You… are?"

Cesare pulled away and placed an empty manacle in Chiaro hands. He gave a laugh. "You're so gullible."

Chiaro gave a sigh, feeling a flood of relief. "Not… funny…."

"It wasn't meant to be," Cesare said, smiling infuriatingly as he started on the next lock. "It was meant to distract you. Have to admit, it worked." He winked. "Now, are you going to be a good knight and do what your king says, or do I have to come up with some other method of distracting you?"

Chiaro managed barely to resist returning the smile and glared instead, but by the time he'd managed the glare, Cesare had already looked back at the lock he was working on. "Cesare… Lord… Pisano… sold his… soul… to the devil."

Cesare met his eyes, looking a bit startled.

"All… of it… you can't…. beat him. They'd… take over."

"I'll figure something out," Cesare replied.

"If… you die… for me… he'll still… kill me. Pointless. Can't you… go out… the way you… came?"

"No. The door doesn't open from the inside."

"What?"

"We'll escape together through the castle."

"We… can't! Do you… know how… many guards… he has?"

"Of course. I intend to kill every one of them that stands in our way."

"Oh, that's going… to look great… on your record. What if… you get… killed in the… process?" He started coughing. He was talking too fast.

"Then I get killed."

"Damn it… Cesa…re! Why… did you… come here… if… if you knew… it was a—?"

His words were cut off by Cesare giving a sigh of exasperation and suddenly gripping the lock in one hand and using the other to push Chiaro's head against the wall, though not hard enough to hurt, and covering his mouth. "Stop. Arguing. With. Me." Having Cesare's demonic hand pressed over his face was so alarming that Chiaro was shocked into silence. Hadn't Cesare been laughing at him a minute ago? Was he actually in his right mind right now? Cesare pulled his hand away, licked the blood off it that had come away from Chiaro's face, looked momentarily startled, then shook his head a little and went back to the lock.

Chiaro was silent for a moment, wondering if it was possible to convince Cesare to leave before he got killed without appearing to argue. Meanwhile, Cesare methodically worked on the lock, eyes smoldering, though from what exactly Chiaro couldn't tell. "Chiaro, you are the only person I have left," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I will be _damned _if I let you die too. I was too late to save Vanozza, but I _will_ save you or die trying, because I would rather die than live without you. For once, can't you let me be the knight? Allow me to rescue you for a change? I'm trying to do something _good_ here, Chiaro!" His voice was intense, almost angry.

Chiaro wondered if he really should just stop arguing. But the thought of Cesare dying for him just seemed so wrong. And he'd hardly been better off for trying to rescue Vanozza. "I… understand," he said, exhausted, "and… I'm grateful… but…." But on the other hand, if he died, Cesare was hopeless. He would fight and struggle against the demons until they devoured him and took over his soul. He would lose every bit of him that was still Cesare. "Okay," he said. "Okay… please… save me… but… be careful." He really didn't want to leave Cesare now.

Cesare seemed to relax a little. "Thank you." He handed the other manacle to Chiaro.

Chiaro dropped the manacle and drew Cesare into a hug, ignoring the excruciating pain this movement caused.

"Chiaro, we don't have time for this," Cesare said, starting to pull away.

"Yes… we do." Cesare tried to struggle for a moment more, then relaxed, hugging Chiaro back. Chiaro held him closely, trying to see how much damage the demons had done in his absence. Quite a bit, it seemed. Even being so close to Chiaro these last few minutes, and now being in his arms, Cesare's eyes still weren't going all the way back to normal. "Hold… still," he said, and he cradled Cesare's head, trying to send them away. _Get out of him. He's mine._ He pressed his forehead against Cesare's, wondering if that would help.

Cesare gave a soft moan. "What are you doing?"

"Just… relax." He let go so he could take Cesare's hands, noting that Cesare's eyes were normal again. "Holding… your hands… doesn't… seem… to help."

Cesare smiled a little. "Are you going to stop telling me I should leave you to die now?"

"Already… did." Cesare needed him. That much was certain.

"Good. Worry about my hands later. I hear them coming."

"Don't… use _them_…."

"I don't know that I have much of a choice. Here, work on your ankles."

"Cesare, you're… wounded!"

"Am I? Where?"

"Your… arm."

Cesare looked at it like he hadn't noticed it before, then took his sword and rubbed the edge against the wound.

"What… are you… doing?"

"My blood is poison, remember? This makes me more effective."

Moments later, Pisano's men rushed into the dungeon, and Cesare went wild. Chiaro watched the demons descend, lending him their strength. "Damn… it," he hissed, picking at his locks much more effectively than Cesare had, even with his wounded hands. He had been a professional thief, after all. He had to get up and fight, before… before… finally! Chiaro braced himself against the wall and got to his feet. He steadied himself for a moment and then grabbed a sword from the wall. He couldn't lift it. His arms refused to obey him. His body threatened collapse at the exertion. He gave a growl of frustration and tried again. As though some miraculous force somehow gave him the strength, he was able to lift the sword and rush in to join Cesare. His body was still in excruciating pain, but he ignored it.

"Chiaro? Sit down!"

"No, I'm still your knight!" He ran someone through who was about to behead his master, and a second later Cesare had stopped someone from cutting Chiaro's arm off. It went on like that, each of them protecting the other more than himself, until all the men were dead or incapacitated. Then came Pisano, sword drawn, and Cesare caught his sword with his own.

"This is my fight, Chiaro. Sit down." His tone was one of authority, one Chiaro had never been able to disobey.

Chiaro did as he was told, though "collapsed" might be a better word than "sat." Whatever mysterious strength he'd had was now gone. He managed to sit against a wall and watched his friend and his captor circling each other, both with drawn swords.

**A/N 3: So now Chiaro **_**kind of**_** gets it. (*rolls eyes) And I know, two cliff-hangers in a row is cruel, but honestly, this chapter was really, really long. Oh, and it really was a joke, by the way. Cesare was trying to figure out the one thing he could say to completely distract Chiaro from the situation—and he guessed right.**


	14. Blood

**Chapter 14: Blood**

**A/N: So, this chapter is a little creepy… I seem to be specializing in that lately. Sorry about that. Side note—from this chapter on, Chiaro's devotion to Cesare has increased to almost Volpe-level proportions because he's so overwhelmed by Cesare caring for him so much.**

**I kind of had the impression that Chiaro had never experienced much tenderness in his life, so his expectations and wants are really low. Cesare constantly needing him was always enough to keep him satisfied. Cesare actually loving him, even willing to risk his life and sacrifice things for him—that's more than he would have ever dared to ask. He has no idea what to do with it, but it's making him happier than he's ever been in his life. Ergo, he's pretty much lost all sense of self-preservation, and would gladly cut out his heart if he thought it would help Cesare, or even make him happy. Because he is an idiot.**

**Sigh, you know, I really thought when I started writing this that Cesare was the one who needed intensive care; now I'm starting to think it's Chiaro. He has like no self-esteem. I'm still not exactly sure how to fix that… it's something I'm working on in the editing. Anyway, sorry about the really long author's note.**

"Impressive," Pisano said. "I really am very impressed." He lashed out with his sword, which was met by Cesare's. "You're very nearly a match for me, I think. A pity you don't quite measure up. One is so much stronger for fully accepting the devil's power, you know, rather than fighting it."

Cesare glared at him, eyes still resolutely black, somehow.

"You know, you really ought not to fall in love, and then send your lover off to assassinate people. Very bad form."

"I'm _not_ in love with him. He _isn't_ my lover." Cesare sounded like he'd had to argue this point a lot lately, and Chiaro wondered what had happened. Cesare obviously had this on the brain, from that stupid joke he'd made.

"Whatever. He might as well be for the hold he seems to have on you." He struck out again with his sword, and Cesare defended then countered the swing, but his sword was caught on Pisano's.

"Kill me, then, if you think you can," Cesare said, smiling a little in challenge. "Stop toying with me."

"My, aren't we perceptive?" Pisano said, his voice beautiful and smooth. Demonically so. "You're right. I don't want to kill you. I'd rather have you as an ally."

"_I'd_ rather die," Cesare said, striking out, but not managing.

"But don't you see?" Pisano asked, his voice becoming more beautiful as he spoke. "I'm like _you_, Lord Cesare. Together, we can truly conquer the world. Not just Italy, but the whole world. Think about it. _King_ Cesare, not only Lord. Stop resisting and join me. Everything will be so much easier when you just give in."

"You're not even slightly human, are you?" Cesare asked, but his eyes were gleaming gold. "You are the devil."

"Oh, yes. I gave him complete control. You can't kill me, even if you do win this battle. I am immortal. You can be too, if you will join me. King Cesare Borgia, immortal world conqueror. It has a certain ring to it, don't you think?"

"What are your conditions?"

"Cesa… re!" Chiaro choked, reproachfully. Cesare gave no sign that he'd even heard.

"All I'm asking is that you destroy your conscience," Pisano said, making it sound like a small matter.

"Chiaro is my conscience."

Now that was a scary thought. Chiaro was hardly perfect himself.

"Exactly," Pisano replied.

"I won't kill Chiaro!"

"Oh, no? Don't you realize, he's the one who makes you weak? If it weren't for him, you would have been all powerful by now. Stop fighting it, man. Be done with him. He's hardly done your plans any good, has he?"

"He's my friend!"

"World conquerors do not _have_ friends. They have servants. Don't you understand? As long as you keep him around, you'll _never_ succeed in your goals. Think about it, Cesare Borgia."

And Cesare did, clearly. He blinked and looked at Chiaro, suddenly thoughtful. Chiaro gnawed his lip. In spite of his demands that Cesare not try to rescue him, he really didn't want to die. He'd tried to resign himself to it, but it hadn't worked very well, and since Cesare had come, his desire to live and especially to stay with Cesare had increased tremendously. More than that, he didn't want to be killed by his best friend, and he didn't want Cesare to go over to the devil. _Please don't. Cesare, please…._

After at least a full minute and a half, Cesare suddenly turned away from him, smiling a little. "You're right," he said to Pisano. Chiaro's heart almost stopped. But Cesare continued, his voice cool, methodical, and completely ruthless. The voice of someone who truly would kill his best friend for the sake of ultimate power. "World conquerors ought not to get attached to people like Chiaro. Not if they want to be successful." He lowered his sword and moved closer to Pisano, inclining his head slightly in submission. Chiaro shook his head a little. _No._ He blinked hard, wanting it not to be true. _No… you said…._ He had a sudden vision of Cesare nestling close to him and whispering that he wanted to belong to Chiaro too, that he loved him. And only a few minutes ago, he had been desperate to save Chiaro. How could the demons twist him this far?

"Truly," Cesare continued, "I've known all along that being so close to Chiaro has made me increasingly less ruthless, and I must be ruthless to succeed in my goals, but I convinced myself that I was imagining it, because I wished to keep him at my side."

"An understandable desire, in its place," Pisano said, his voice smooth and understanding.

"Indeed," Cesare said, moving alarmingly close to Pisano. "But due to your council and the council of my other manservant, I now understand the truth. I know now that if I am serious about my desire to conquer the world, I must sever all ties with Chiaro and accept my destiny as the child chosen by the darkness."

"A wise decision," Pisano replied.

Chiaro wondered if his heartbeat was audible to the two men standing in front of him. Would Cesare really kill him? _No_, he mentally pleaded. _No. I want to live. I want to stay with you._ "Cesare…" he whispered, trying in vain to get to his feet so he could… do what? Hold Cesare to send the demons away when Cesare intended to kill him and let the demons take over? Plead for his life? Offer his life to Cesare's sword, as Cesare wanted? He blinked back sudden tears. Maybe he should just stay where he was.

"I didn't say anything about a decision," Cesare said, putting the point of his sword to Pisano's throat in one swift motion. Pisano raised his eyebrows. "I think you underestimate just how deep this attachment goes. I've become _so_ attached that I would actually rather keep him with me than conquer the world." Within a second, his sword had slit Pisano's throat and sent him to the ground. His eyes, now black again, burned with fury. "And I would rather die than join you."

"Cesare…." Chiaro smiled. He felt like laughing.

Cesare turned to smile at him, his eyes warm and gentle. "Did you really think I'd choose him over you?" he asked, his voice gently scolding. He began to come closer, but then Pisano started to get up.

"Behind you!" Chiaro shouted, and Cesare whirled around to catch Pisano's sword, staring.

"I told you," Pisano said, his neck unblemished. "You can't kill me."

A second later, they were at each other. The battle seemed to go on forever. Pisano seemed to go into full demon form, eyes glowing, flashing first here, then there, then disappearing entirely only to reappear directly behind Cesare. Cesare held his own, barely, but he couldn't mark Pisano. Somehow—_somehow—_Cesare was _not_ using his demonic powers, or else the demons had abandoned him. He was a man fighting the devil, and Chiaro knew who would win. He tried to get up, to join the battle, but it was too fast for him. He didn't have the strength. _Please_, he prayed, wondering if God would intercede on behalf of his beloved master. _Please_.

Pisano's sword ran through Cesare's shoulder in a movement that was so fast, it was almost invisible. Cesare cried out in pain, staggering backwards. For a moment, his face blanched, true terror in his eyes.

"What?" Pisano asked. "Don't want to die? They won't protect you anymore, not now. Not unless you join me."

Cesare breathed hard, then stole a glance back at Chiaro. "No," he said. "I can't die."

"Oh, can't you?" He swung his sword again, and Cesare caught it.

"No," Cesare said. "I can't." He swung his sword, but Pisano disappeared, only to come from above him, then behind him again.

_God, please!_ Chiaro prayed with all his strength. _At least make it a fair fight._

All of a sudden, Pisano stopped, as if startled, though he managed to catch Cesare's sword a moment later. "What?" he said, and looked around as he held back Cesare's sword. There seemed to be a shield of light around him, holding back much of the darkness he'd been using to fight Cesare. Cesare obviously noticed it too, and quickly pressed his advantage. Pisano seemed like he'd been rooted to his body now, but he was still more than a match for Cesare, and Cesare was wounded and becoming exhausted.

Suddenly the door opened from above, and seconds later someone had barreled down, cutting off Pisano's arm before he could strike a killing blow. Volpe! Chiaro felt a sudden surge of gratitude for his rival.

"Fool!" Pisano said, turning on Volpe. "That will do nothing!" His arm grew back, making Volpe start backwards, and he picked up his sword. Volpe backed away, but then rushed forward, striking at Pisano like a madman, to be joined a second later by Cesare. Chiaro managed to get to his feet. Perhaps he couldn't fight, but…. Cesare managed now to cut off Pisano's other arm at the same time Volpe ran him through the throat. Pisano staggered backwards, but grinned all the while. Chiaro rushed forward and put his arms around Pisano just as his arm started growing back. Pisano gasped out in anguish, the growth arrested. He whirled around with his sword, aiming for Chiaro's neck, but gashing him across the chest instead before dropping his sword.

"Chiaro!" Cesare cried, rushing toward him.

"Wait… don't… touch him," Chiaro gasped. "He… won't die… unless… unless I… do this." If Cesare's blood was poisonous, it was nothing in comparison to the blood beginning to flow from Pisano's wounds. It burned, especially where it got into Chiaro's chest wound. Chiaro tried to get out of the path of the flow, fighting to keep hold of the struggling Pisano. Chiaro's light was poisonous to him. It was killing him. _Come to think of it, he never did touch me._

Pisano began to gasp for breath, unable to scream. His body began to shrivel in Chiaro's grasp, and within two minutes, all that remained of him was a skeleton. Chiaro staggered to his feet, soaked in blood, and then everything went black and he felt himself collapse into strong arms that were somehow there to catch him.

…

Volpe watched his master catch Chiaro and cradle him as he knelt. "Chiaro?" Cesare's voice shook. The scene was too pitiful for Volpe to feel jealous. "Chiaro…." Cesare's face looked suddenly fragile, desperate, and very, very young. He pressed his cloak against the gash that crossed Chiaro's chest, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Let me see." Volpe moved aside Cesare's hand and examined the wound. "He won't die from that."

Cesare met his eyes. "Tagio." He looked again like the child he was when Volpe had first decided to serve him, and Volpe was a little disturbed that only hours earlier he'd tried to seduce this master whose heart was so very young.

"Yes. I'm sorry I was late. It took me about half an hour to come to my senses."

Cesare shook his head. "You came. I'm grateful. Please, help me. Get water, quickly, so we can wash this off him before he dies. Water and… and bandages."

"But your shoulder…."

"Please, Tagio." His eyes pleaded. "I'm counting on you."

Volpe made a slight bow and made his way quickly up the stairs. He managed to find water and a towel and went back as quickly as he could without spilling it. Cesare was still cradling Chiaro when he got back. "Thank you," Cesare said. His hands were shaking as he, with Volpe's help, poured the first of the two buckets of water over Chiaro, washing away a large amount of blood, both Pisano's and Chiaro's. Chiaro's skin was red where Pisano's blood had been and looked like it was burned. Chiaro gasped and began to shake. Cesare used the other bucket with the towel to wipe the rest of the blood off, and then bandaged Chiaro's wound tightly. He sucked the blood off his hands when he was finished, then stopped, looking embarrassed.

Chiaro seemed to wake a little, and he blinked his eyes at Volpe. "It's… you," he said. "Thanks." He looked at Cesare. "Hey… you're… bleeding. Shouldn't… you be… worrying… 'bout that… 'stead of… giving… me… a bath?"

Cesare started to laugh, but there were tears in his eyes. "Are you seriously trying to argue with me?"

"No," Chiaro said, smiling and closing his eyes. He sat up a little. "Vol… pe… have you… got… a bandage?" Volpe nodded and wrapped a strip of cloth around Cesare's shoulder, ignoring Cesare's protests that his blood was poisonous. Chiaro obviously wasn't in a state to bandage Cesare himself. He washed his hands in the bucket of water.

"Can we… go home?" Chiaro asked, leaning back against Cesare.

"Yes. Can you walk?" Cesare asked.

"Um…." Chiaro tried to will his muscles into kneeling. "I… don't… think so."

"Tagio, will you carry him? I can't."

"Of course."

Chiaro smirked a little as Volpe lifted him into his arms. "This is… unex…pected."

"If you're that hurt, stop talking," Volpe said shortly. "Hold onto me. Your shoulders are dislocated, but I can't fix them until we're safe. I have no doubt we're not entirely out of danger."

Chiaro didn't respond, thankfully. He could be so irritating sometimes. Why use so much of his energy arguing, making jokes, and stating the obvious?

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Cesare asked, coming beside them as they walked.

"If he has so much energy to make smart remarks, I'm sure he'll be fine."

Chiaro smiled a little. "No… defi… nitely not. In fact… I think… I'm… approa…ching… Death's… door. See?" he said as they crossed the doorway of the palace.

"That is _not_ something to joke about," Cesare said, glaring, but a bit of color had returned to his face.

Chiaro just gave a laugh. "…sare… lighten… up…."

Cesare rolled his eyes. Was this why Chiaro kept making jokes? To distract Cesare so he wouldn't worry? Volpe sighed a little. So what if it was a kind gesture? It was still irritating. Within another ten minutes, they had obtained new horses from the stables, and Volpe passed Chiaro up to Cesare to sit behind him.

…

Cesare monitored Chiaro carefully as they rode, gentler than he had before but still quickly. Chiaro was wrapped in Cesare's cloak, and he kept drifting in and out of consciousness, which made Cesare nervous. But his light was as strong as ever.

"Hey," Chiaro whispered at one point.

"Yes?"

"Were you… really… thinking… of killing… me?"

"No."

Chiaro smiled. "You sure… took your… time saying so," he said, falling asleep again.

Cesare hadn't been thinking of killing Chiaro. But he had realized at that time that the two greatest desires of his heart were incompatible. That devil had been right. Cesare had been avoiding the thought for a while now, but he couldn't anymore. He could not be both Chiaro's best friend and a world conqueror, and he knew which one he wanted more. But he could hardly just abandon the effort, could he? He had set too many things in motion that needed someone to carry them through.

Cesare looked thoughtfully at Volpe riding beside him. Practical, politic Volpe, who was more ruthless these days than he was, and probably had enough charisma to draw the masses. Perhaps he couldn't abandon the effort… but maybe he could pass it to someone else. Cesare was surprised by the sense of peace this idea brought him, even if it was accompanied by disappointment. The idea of being Prince Cesare Borgia did appeal to him, he couldn't deny it. And he did want to see a united Italy. And yet….

But what would he do instead? Was he really fit for anything else? He certainly didn't make a very good cardinal. He supposed he had enough money that he could probably simply retire, but that sounded so _boring_. Cesare couldn't imagine a life in which he wasn't trying to conquer _something_, or engaging in some sort of exciting, usually violent battle. Sad, really. _Was_ there some way to keep Chiaro at his side, keep the demons from taking over his body and soul, and still be a conqueror?

"Cesare?"

Cesare almost laughed at how sleepy Chiaro sounded. He slowed the horse and looked round. "Yes?"

Chiaro smiled, eyes still closed. "Just… making… sure." In a moment, he was asleep again, still smiling. So trusting. Cesare shook his head a little, wishing Chiaro wasn't such an idiot but eternally grateful that he was. But it was all right. He would figure out some way to make this work. He had some time to think about what he was going to do, right? There were more pressing matters at hand. He and both of his men were seriously injured, Chiaro more than either he or Volpe, and his hands needed to be dealt with in some way, though he wasn't sure if Chiaro could do anything for them. He'd been soaking in Chiaro's light now for more than half an hour, and it hadn't done them any good. Really… would the demons take him over regardless of whether he conquered Italy? Was he hopeless?

"How are you, Cesare?" Volpe asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Cesare replied. "Chiaro feels too warm. I think he has a fever."

"That doesn't surprise me. Perhaps we should stop somewhere and stay for a while before going back to Rome. If people are after you, they'll be waiting there for you."

"True. Do you know of any villages that might be conducive?"

"There's a small one about half a mile from here, where I changed my horse."

"Very well, lead the way." Cesare was feeling much more comfortable with Volpe now that Chiaro was back and Volpe wasn't trying to seduce him. Had it not been for Volpe, both he and Chiaro would probably be dead right now. "You will be rewarded for your loyalty, Tagio."

"I do not require a reward, but I am grateful for your affirmation."

"You're a lot like me, you know," Cesare told him.

"Thank you, my lord."

"In fact, you might make a better world conqueror than I would."

"I have no intention of vying with you for power."

"That wasn't what I meant," Cesare replied. They finally arrived at the village and found a small inn where they ordered two rooms. Volpe, who was the least wounded, tended to Cesare's wounds first, allowed Cesare to bandage him, then went to go find a doctor, leaving Chiaro to Cesare. Cesare methodically applied suave to his burns and bandages to his wounds, hoping Chiaro wouldn't have too many scars. His hands made it a little difficult, but he was determined.

At some point, Chiaro woke up. "Hi," he said.

"Hello."

"We need… to fix… your hands."

"I'd hardly say that's priority at the moment."

"Yes… I had… an idea."

Cesare gently lifted Chiaro and pulled him close so he could work on his back. He knew he could just have Chiaro turn over, but this was nicer. "Did you?" Might as well humor him now, that they were safe.

"Yes. You saw… I'm poison… to the… demons. So… I killed… but you're… partly human… so maybe… you'd be fine."

"But what are you planning on doing? I've been touching you this whole time, almost."

"I thought… maybe… you should… drink… my blood."

Cesare stiffened, his hand pausing in applying the suave. "What?" He had to have heard wrong.

"Since… that way you… might be… able to… purge them."

"I'm not drinking your blood!" Cesare said, appalled.

"You were… licking it…."

"That doesn't mean I want to _drink_ it." Regardless of how it tasted, if Chiaro lost much more blood, he would die.

"I'm just… worried," Chiaro said, "that it… might kill you. But I don't… think it will… and… it might make you… healthier… for a long time." He started coughing.

"Would you stop talking? You'll make yourself worse." Cesare shook his head. "No. You've already lost enough blood because of being tortured and fighting for me when you were wounded. Besides, didn't you say I shouldn't align myself with the devil by giving into my taste for blood?"

"I think… if it's me… it'll be different. And it's better to… do it soon. Here… this wound… I think… it's still bleeding." He pulled the bandage from the gash across his chest, which immediately began to bleed again.

"Chiaro…!"

"Unless… you're worried… it'll kill you."

"I'm worried it will kill _you_!"

"I'll be… fine. Drink."

"No."

"_Please_… Cesare!" Chiaro's eyes pleaded. "It's all… I can think of." He looked desperate, like there was much more at stake here than Cesare's hands. "I want… to help you."

Cesare put a hand over his eyes. He was beginning to have serious doubts about Chiaro's mental health. Then he looked at the hand. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that this transformation would only continue if left unchecked, and along with his hands it would consume his heart. Already, he was terrified of how thoroughly the demons had commanded his thoughts and actions when he had come to rescue Chiaro. He'd wanted to consume Chiaro, to absorb him, to ravish him. He'd had to fight down and suppress a dozen impulses before he'd trusted himself to approach Chiaro… and then Chiaro had looked so confused when he promised not to hurt him. Was he actually this naïve? If Cesare got a taste for Chiaro's blood, wouldn't that make the temptation even worse the next time the demons attacked him? Or would the blood be enough to stop the attack? "You're practically dancing in the fire," Cesare said.

"I'll take… my chances."

"Idiot." Slowly, Cesare bent to Chiaro's chest wound, and began to suck blood from it. Chiaro gave a slight grunt, but otherwise made no move to stop him. His blood tasted like liquid light and made Cesare half mad with the desire for more, but he managed to stop himself after a few swallows. He pulled away, licking his lips and wiping the excess blood off his cheeks.

"Tastes… good?" Chiaro asked, looking curious and not alarmed in the least.

Cesare sighed. _Why don't you _ever_ react the way you're supposed to?_ "Like fine wine," he replied. "What are you doing, trying to get me more addicted to you than I already am?" He quickly cleaned the wound and wrapped a bandage around it again so it wouldn't tempt him. Then suddenly his body convulsed, and his stomach was in agony. He narrowly managed to keep himself from vomiting.

"Cesare?"

"They… don't… like it," Cesare gasped, beginning to sweat. No, he would not vomit. He would _not_. This was the only thing that might cure him. He felt another wave of pain and dizziness.

"Come here," Chiaro said, beginning to draw him close. Cesare let himself be drawn until he was in Chiaro's arms. "Stay… it's okay."

Cesare gasped, clinging to Chiaro. "Don't… let Volpe see… he'll panic." Then his vision faded and turned dark. All he was aware of was the light burning inside him and the light surrounding him to comfort him in the agony this caused. _I don't want to be Pisano. Let it heal me. Please._

**A/N 2: I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to be another cliffy, honestly I didn't. Well, maybe kind of sort of, but there wasn't really another good breaking point that was interesting. I'll try not to make another cliffy. Only trouble is, the story is quite a lot of cliffies from here on out.**

**By the way, Chiaro and Cesare are **_**both**_** wrong about Chiaro's blood being the only thing that can cure him. But there will be more on that later. ;-)**


	15. Panforte

**Chapter 15: Panforte**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. You get it.**

**A/N: Okay, the whole blood thing… that was Chiaro's idea. I thought it was stupid. Pretty much reacted the same way Cesare did. But Chiaro insisted. And just for the record, it did **_**not**_** heal Cesare. It purged some of the demons and reversed a bit of the damage, but the fact is that Cesare is right. The demons are his link to life, and if Chiaro continues to purge them, Cesare will die, just like he would have if Chiaro hadn't initially let the demons heal him. In order to be actually healed, he'd need someone who had the power to give him a new link to life. And no, Chiaro is not that awesome.**

**A/N 2: Panforte is a traditional Italian dessert that's kind of like a rich, spicy fruit cake, except flat. I haven't actually tried it, but I want to. Here's a ****picture****.**

It wasn't until an hour later that Volpe returned with the village doctor. "I'm sorry. It took a while to find—what happened to Lord Cesare?"

"He's fine… I think," Chiaro said. "Or at least… he will be. Where is the doctor?"

"He's downstairs, I thought I should check first… what did you do?" His voice, as usual, was accusing.

"Had him drink… some of my blood."

"You what?" Volpe looked repulsed.

"I thought… it might drive away… the demons. I think… it's working."

"He seems _worse_ than before."

"Does he?" Chiaro pulled back the covers and drew out one of Cesare's hands, which was once again entirely human. Volpe blinked, looking slightly less antagonistic but also a little worried.

Cesare stirred a little and opened his eyes. "Is that Volpe?" he asked.

"Yes," Chiaro replied.

"Thought… I told you not to let him see."

"I can't really… jump up and… hide you in a closet… Cesare. Your hands are back to normal."

"Good. Did Volpe find a doctor?"

"Yes."

"Then… he should tend to you." Very slowly, Cesare sat up. He was sweating badly.

"Stay close… to me, though. Or they'll just reject it."

Cesare nodded, leaning back against the back of the bed. "Stop looking so worried, Tagio, I'll be fine."

"How do you feel?" Chiaro asked.

"Everything in me is burning… but it's a good pain, not like the demons. Bring up the doctor, Tagio, just don't let him touch me."

"Of course," Volpe said, bowing slightly and leaving the room.

"You'll need stitches," Chiaro said.

"You think so?" Cesare glanced at his shoulder wound. "I never did before, but I'm being purged of my miraculous curative powers, aren't I? But he can't give me stitches. My blood is still poison."

The doctor came up and tended to Chiaro, stitching the wound on his chest and tending his other wounds, asking a dozen questions Chiaro couldn't answer about who had done this to him, and why, and where that person was now. Then he turned to Cesare, who had been sitting impassively this whole time, though still sweating. Blood from the wound on his shoulder was beginning to seep through his bandage.

"Perhaps you require stitches as well, sir?"

"I don't think so," Cesare replied. "Perhaps you can leave me your thread and I can do it myself if it's necessary."

"That is quite impossible, sir, because of the placement of the wound."

Cesare looked at his shoulder with something that seemed like mild curiosity.

"I'll do it," Chiaro said.

The doctor looked at him, confused.

"My master is afraid… of doctor's needles," he said, just managing to keep a straight face when Cesare glared at him. "So I will tend to him."

"Sir, your hands are wounded."

Chiaro stiffly looked at his bandaged hands. Damn them, why had they removed his fingernails?

"Really, I'll be fine," Cesare said. "I've suffered worse without stitches."

"Give the needle… and thread to… the other man," Chiaro said.

"Yes, sir." The doctor left the room.

"Afraid of doctor's needles?" Cesare asked.

"I couldn't tell him… you were possessed by demons."

"It would have made me sound more impressive."

"You require stitches?" Volpe asked, coming in.

"No."

"Yes… he does," Chiaro said.

Volpe came and examined the wound. "Perhaps a few stitches would be in order. After all, if the wound gets infected, you could lose your arm." Before Cesare could object, he held Cesare still and deftly stitched together the wound then rebandaged it. "If you require anything further, I'll be in the other room."

"Make sure you wash your hands." Cesare rolled his eyes as he left. "As if _they_ would let me lose my arm."

"Poor… Cesare. Had to suffer… three stitches." Chiaro smiled at him. "Was it… painful?"

"Hideously so," Cesare said, laying down beside him. "I may never recover."

…

Cesare moved a little closer, nestling against Chiaro's side. Chiaro put an arm around him to draw him closer, but Cesare resisted. "You are covered in brands and bruises. I'm not going to lie on you."

"I'd be fine."

"Liar." Cesare closed his eyes as Chiaro began to rub his back. "That feels nice."

"So what _were_ you thinking about?"

"Hmm?" Cesare's mind was working slowly since he'd lain down.

"When you were talking… to Pisano and you… looked at me… for all that time. What were you… thinking about?"

"I don't remember," Cesare said, focusing on Chiaro's hand rubbing his back, which stopped.

"Cesare."

"I was thinking he was right. Don't stop."

"But you decided not to kill me."

"Killing you was never in question. I followed his reasoning and came to the opposite conclusion, and now I'm not sure what to do." He reached up and caught Chiaro's hand, placing it back against his back. He smiled as Chiaro began to rub it again. It was almost as nice as when Chiaro stroked his hair, but he wouldn't be able to do that again until his fingers healed.

"You're like a cat," Chiaro said, smiling. "What do you mean… you're not sure what to do?"

"Well… conquering the world and being your best friend… seem a bit incompatible."

"So…."

"Don't know. Maybe instead… I should become a professional cat mimic."

"What?" Chiaro started to laugh. "Ow. What… does your brain melt… when I do this?"

Cesare smiled. "Maybe. I'm serious, though. Not about… being a cat mimic, but…."

"About changing your mind?"

"Maybe… except I can't think of anything else."

"Why not be a… swordsmanship teacher?"

Cesare gave a laugh. "Teach other people how to kill. Quite a comedown from Cesare Borgia the great cardinal." He closed his eyes. "I'll think about it later." He didn't want to think about it or talk about it now. He just wanted to enjoy having Chiaro alive and safe and beside him again.

"Well I'm glad you weren't… thinking of killing me. You kind of freaked me out."

"Sorry," Cesare said. "Stop talking. I want to sleep."

Cesare heard Chiaro give a slight laugh. "Yes, sire, your wish is my command." But he compliantly stopped talking and rubbed Cesare's back until he was able to fall asleep again.

…

Chiaro woke up, immediately conscious of his rising fever and the accompanying pain. He was so cold. Water. There was a glass of water on the bedside that he managed to reach and drink. Why was he so stiff? He sighed and turned to look pensively at Cesare, who was still sleeping beside him, though he didn't seem to be in as much pain anymore. Well, the blood didn't seem to be killing him, and it had been hours, almost a day. That was a relief. He smiled a little. Cesare had come to rescue him. He remembered being stupidly jealous when Cesare had gone to rescue Vanozza, thinking at that time that Cesare would probably never care that much about him. But he did now, apparently. And, terrified as he had been that Cesare would end up getting killed for it or being taken over by the demons, he reveled in the fact that he had come.

There had probably been some amount of self-preservation instinct motivating him; without Chiaro, he would be taken over by the demons, but the fact that he didn't want to be was something in itself, wasn't it? His heart nearly melted when he thought about the conversation Cesare had had with the demonic Pisano. Cesare had stood there and acknowledged that Chiaro messed with his plans—which Chiaro, when he thought about it, couldn't deny—but that he wanted Chiaro with him anyway.

Cesare cared more about Chiaro than he cared about conquering the world. Chiaro blinked, letting that thought sink in. He looked down at Cesare's sleeping form. "Really?" he whispered, softly so it wouldn't wake Cesare. "Do you really?" When had that started? When had Cesare decided that?

"Yes," Cesare murmured.

"What?"

"Yes… I really…."

Chiaro laughed a little. "Idiot. You don't know… what I was talking about. Go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you."

"I love you," Cesare said, apparently guessing Chiaro's thoughts. "More than anything. I never want to lose you, no matter what."

Chiaro hesitated. "More than conquest?"

Cesare nodded.

"What a shame," said a voice, and Chiaro looked up to see Niccolo, the moth sorcerer fluttering around.

"Hey, you. Get lost," Chiaro said, trying to swat him away with the hand that wasn't wrapped around Cesare. But this motion required a surprising amount of energy and sent pain shooting through his body, so he stopped.

"Such violence," he said, taking his human form. "I'm not even doing anything. I came to see if the brave Cesare Borgia was still alive after that infusion of light you just gave him."

Chiaro didn't even bother asking him how he knew.

"I have a question for you, Cesare."

"Go away," Cesare murmured irritably, not even gracing the sorcerer by opening his eyes.

"What are you going to do now?"

Cesare opened his eyes and looked at Niccolo. He sighed a little. "I don't know."

"I really had very high hopes for you, you know."

Cesare closed his eyes again. "So… I'm doomed to failure if I decide I like Chiaro best?"

"You can't have it both ways."

"I can try. Chiaro, you won't mind if I still try to conquer Italy, will you?"

"You are my king," Chiaro replied automatically. "I will support you in whatever you desire to accomplish."

Cesare opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He looked at Niccolo. "There," he said, sounding a bit uncertain. "See?"

"I'm more concerned with Chiaro's influence on you," Niccolo replied.

"Ah, yes, there is that," Cesare said. "Silly Chiaro. Look what you've done to my ruthless ambition." He smiled as he spoke.

"Well I didn't really mean to." Though he certainly wasn't complaining.

"But you like me better without it."

"A bit, yes."

A smile spread across Cesare's face. "Have you come to council me on a career change, Niccolo? Perhaps I should be an exterminator and rid the world of pests like you. I can wage war against all the moth-sorcerers."

"I believe I'm the only one."

"Pity. It won't do, then. I need a long-term occupation."

"Well, good luck finding one," the sorcerer said, turning back into a moth and flying away.

"Bastard," Chiaro muttered.

There was a short pause, then Cesare turned to look at Chiaro. "You really don't want me to conquer the world, do you?"

Chiaro blinked. "I… why would you…?"

"Come on, now," Cesare said coaxingly. "Be honest."

Chiaro didn't know what to say. How on earth could he possibly ask anything more of Cesare? Especially something like that, giving up his dream, for Chiaro's sake? "Cesare… I'm yours. Whatever you want to do, that's what I want to do. I want to serve you in any way I possibly can. You are my king, and I love you."

Cesare didn't look entirely convinced. "Chiaro, if being your king means I can never get an honest answer out of you, I'm not entirely sure I like this arrangement."

"I am being honest."

Cesare smiled a little. "Chiaro, you're not a conqueror."

"No, I'm a servant."

"You're also a person. I'm not asking what Chiaro the servant wants. I'm asking what Chiaro the person wants."

This was getting a little alarming. Since when had Cesare been able to read him so clearly? Startled, Chiaro could only answer honestly, "I want to be by your side."

Cesare looked at him curiously.

"That's what I want, as a person. I want to be with my best friend."

Cesare studied him for a few moments. "Well," he said. "I can promise you that. You'll always belong with me."

_Until I lose you to _them, Chiaro thought, but he didn't say that. His heart ached.

Cesare lay down and looked at the ceiling. "I'm so tired," he said softly. "I thought on my way to rescue you, Chiaro… that it would be so nice to just be happy. To not have to fight them anymore… or worry about conquest. But I don't know where to find peace and happiness, and I don't know if my personality can really cope with it. I _am_ a conqueror, and I'd go mad if I wasn't trying to conquer something. At least… I think I would. I'm trying to remember if I wanted to conquer the world before they came and possessed me."

"All I remember is you wanting to die. What did you want before that?"

"Well… not too long before that, I wanted to be a sword-master… like Marrone."

"Marrone? Who was that?"

Cesare frowned, paused, then shook his head. "No one in particular."

"You can tell me," Chiaro said. "If you admired him so much you wanted to be like him, he must have been someone pretty important to you."

Cesare blinked a few times. He looked up at Chiaro. "That's right," he said. "You like confidences, don't you? I'll give you one, then, in return for… your medicine."

"Only if you want to."

There was a pause, and then Cesare nodded. "Marrone… was my first friend."

"Really?" Chiaro didn't know Cesare had had any friends before meeting him. He'd seemed so alone.

"Yes. Really… he was like a father to me. I loved him… without reserve. He saved me from the Orsini crowd, who meant to rape me through hatred of my father… and then taught me swordsmanship, taking me under his wing and teaching me to defend myself."

Chiaro smiled. "We should find him," he told Cesare. "Really. I mean, if he was so important to you. Maybe he could give you advice."

Cesare smiled a little, but it was a bitter smile. "Finding him… would be difficult."

"Why?" Chiaro asked, though he guessed.

"Because… I killed him."

Chiaro couldn't help starting at this, which hurt. He'd expected Cesare to say Marrone was dead, but that he'd killed Marrone was completely unexpected. "Um… why?"

Cesare sighed and paused for a minute before continuing. "I was staying at the Orsini house after Vanozza was married off. My father had made the master of the house's wife—Julia, you remember her?—his mistress, and the man hated me for it, since he couldn't get back at my father. Marrone was his sword-master. I think he actually did like me… maybe. He was a friendly, carefree man who loved to tease. A bit like you, actually. But he was also in love with Julia… and she returned his feelings. But… Marrone was an assassin, and they plotted together to kill my father. I loved my father, and I didn't want him to die, so I foiled their plot, but I didn't give them away. My father… things were complicated, and Julia convinced him that I'd been trying to attack her. He sent me away." Cesare closed his eyes, and Chiaro rubbed his back gently for a moment.

"Well… Marrone came and found me. I thought maybe he'd been worried… I don't know. I was still such a child, and I hadn't learned to be properly wary. He asked how I'd found out about the plot and what I was going to do. I told him he should leave the country… I didn't want my father in further danger… but I begged him to take me with him."

"Even though he tried to kill your father?"

"I loved him, Chiaro. And I thought he loved me. I thought… I wasn't really betraying my father, because after all, if we went away, my father would be in no further danger. I told him I was afraid that if things continued the way they had been, I was afraid I would forget how to love someone. It was true, I was. I thought I had until recently."

"What happened?"

"He hugged me." Cesare paused. "And then he ran me through."

Chiaro started again. "He…."

"He said not to think badly of him… that I would have stabbed him in the back and running away with me would be dangerous…." He suddenly put a hand to his face and Chiaro saw that there were tears in his eyes. "The demons helped me… kill him… before he finished me off, and then he was gone." He suddenly began to cry, and he sat up so he could cover his face with his hand. "I'm sorry… I don't know why… it must be the pain… making me emotional."

Chiaro sat up, heedless of the pain, and drew his friend close. A betrayal like that… he was surprised Cesare _hadn't_ forgotten how to love. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"No, I'm… I'm being absurd," Cesare said, trying to stop crying and weakly attempting to pull away. "I didn't even cry then… why am I crying now?"

"Probably… _because_ you didn't cry then. Don't struggle. I'm not going… to think less of you if you cry."

"You're wounded."

"I don't care."

At last Cesare relaxed and allowed Chiaro to lean back against the pillows, holding him. "Chiaro," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Please don't ever betray me."

Chiaro stroked Cesare's hair as best he could with his bandaged fingers. "Never. I promise." He thought sadly that, although apparently Cesare had learned to love again, he might never be able to fully trust someone again. Not even Chiaro. "Hey," he said, "Was that why you freaked out the first time you were awake when I slept with you?"

Cesare smiled a little through the last of his tears. "You mean when you thought I was worried you were trying to _seduce_ me? Kind of slow, aren't you?"

"Well I didn't know."

"I know. But seduce me?"

"Sorry, apparently I'm bad at reading your facial expressions."

Cesare laughed a little. "I'm glad you weren't, though. I think… I like this kind of relationship better."

"Really?" Chiaro said, raising an eyebrow. "The proposal notwithstanding?"

Cesare grinned. "The proposal was a complete joke."

Chiaro rolled his eyes. "Your sense of humor is insane."

"No, I really do like this better," Cesare said. "Once, I thought… but I think that was only because you never held me, or I thought you didn't. But see, you're like… panforte."

"I'm like what?"

"Panforte. It's—"

"I know what it is; it's my favorite Christmas food. Why am I like panforte?"

"Because with panforte, one piece is enough, because it's so good. You'd get sick if you tried to eat the whole cake."

Chiaro felt himself blush a little. "Yeah… I know."

"You've attempted it?" Cesare asked, his voice amused.

"I was six, and no one was paying attention, so I kept going back for seconds."

"I take it you've learned your lesson?"

"Yes." The stomachache had lasted a day and a half. "But that's a different kind of thing. Because friendship love and romantic love are completely different. But if you kept having more panforte, it would still be the same thing."

"Depends on how you think about it," Cesare said. "Everything about me has been twisted by the demons, which is why I let you define the relationship, not me. Jokes aside."

Chiaro thought about this. Did that mean that if he _had_ wanted the relationship to be romantic, Cesare would have been fine with that too? He found the idea a bit disturbing. "How… would you have defined it?"

"I don't know. I never tried to." He sighed. "Do you know how frightening it is to wake up one morning and realize that you no longer have a moral compass of any kind?"

Chiaro raised his eyebrows. Cesare was confiding in him a _lot_ tonight.

"I had a vision… the goal to conquer Italy… but I no longer had any internal sense of right or wrong, only what would be useful and what wouldn't. Which didn't matter to me for the most part, since I'd also lost my ability to care about humanity in general… but then I wanted you with me." He paused. "And that was all I knew. You were there, and it was your fault I was like that, and you _hadn't_ killed me, though I'd wanted to die. Part of me reveled in all the power I suddenly had, but another part of me was terrified of what I'd turned into… and then I remembered you could send the demons away and keep me from getting out of control. And then you willingly agreed to stay with me and seemed to actually like me, and I had no idea what to do with that." He smiled. "It made me want you even more, so that you were more than just my servant. Except I wasn't clear on what the 'more' ought to be, and I wasn't prepared to trust something I actually cared about to my nonexistent moral compass, which was why I let you decide and figured I'd be as satisfied with as much as you would give me. It's only very recently that I've decided I think I actually like this _better_ than I might have if you'd given me more. Which is why I say you're like panforte. This is sweeter in some ways, and healthier… and it's nice to know you like me for me, rather than, say, for my body."

"Well, I'm very, very glad you feel that way," Chiaro said, then grinned. "Though I'm wondering… if I ought to be worried that you think of me as a type of dessert."

"That is not what I meant," Cesare said flatly. "Idiot."

Chiaro laughed. "Fine wine and panforte. Perhaps I should market myself at a confection shop."

"Not funny."

"We could call it 'Cesare's delight,'" Chiaro said, spreading an imaginary sign above him with his hand.

Cesare snorted and he started laughing. "Shut up."

"Hey, it's one more career to consider."

"I think I'll pass," Cesare said, still laughing.

There was a knock at the door, and Volpe came in. "Cesare, you're awake. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Chiaro told him. "We've just decided to open a confection shop."

Volpe stared at him blankly as Cesare started laughing again. "He's being an idiot, don't listen to him," he said.

"I believe I won't ask, though I'm glad to see you're in a good mood. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Cesare replied, his face relaxing into a gentle smile.

"Will we be able to return to Rome soon?"

Cesare's smile faded and his eyes grew distant. "Rome," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose. Once Chiaro is feeling up to it."

Chiaro considered saying he was most definitely _not_ up to it, and wouldn't be for at least a week. He didn't want Cesare to go back to Rome. He wanted his friend to find the peace he craved, to be happy, at least for a little longer. When Volpe turned to him, he shrugged. "I'll let you know."

Volpe made a slightly stiff bow and left the room.

"So," Chiaro said after a moment. "When do you want me to feel up to it?"

Cesare's eyes came back and he looked at Chiaro, smiling a little. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how long do you want to stay here?"

"You are still seriously wounded, Chiaro."

"I'm well enough to travel to Rome. It isn't that far. But I'll hold us up for as long as you want me to."

Cesare's smile tightened and he blinked a few times. "You know," he said, "once I thought you _wanted_ to help me conquer the world."

"I want you to be happy," Chiaro replied, reaching to rub Cesare's back. "Your dreams are boundless, and I want to help you make them come true, but if they've changed, I want to make those dreams come true. Like I said, I want to serve you in any way I can, whether you're a world conqueror, a sword master…." He paused and smiled a little. "…or a confection shop owner."

Cesare gave a laugh, but it sounded a bit forced. "So basically… you'll do whatever I want, regardless of how you, the person, actually feel about it."

Chiaro frowned. He was biasing Cesare's decision. This wasn't right. He was Cesare's knight. Cesare was his king. "Cesare," he said seriously, "if you want to conquer the world, or unite Italy, or whatever, I will be behind you all the way. I will fight for you and kill for you and give you my full support. In my mind, you are already my king. But if you don't want to… if you want to stop and find peace in some small corner of the world… you have my full support in that as well. I can't make this decision for you."

"But I can't stop now," Cesare said, sounding exhausted. "Don't you see? Even if I want to, I've started too many things, and if I suddenly pull out they'll collapse like a house of cards. And I _do_ want to see Italy united, and free from her enemies, but I'm so afraid…."

"Afraid?"

"That they'll take me. That I'll lose control of myself. I don't want… to give in to that darkness… and I don't want it to destroy me. I want to stay with you in the light."

"I'll always stay with you."

"But… you can't keep fixing me if I keep receiving more help from them."

"You could try conquering the world without them," Chiaro said, wondering why he hadn't thought of it sooner. "I mean, Alexander and Augustus Caesar didn't need demonic powers, right?"

"Yes… but they force themselves on me whenever I'm fighting or plotting… and it's difficult to fight them off." He lay down again, and Chiaro rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. "You can't always be holding me, Chiaro," Cesare said quietly. "You can't always protect me. Eventually, I'm going to run out of time." He looked up. "And then I suppose you'll kill me." He sighed. "Unless… I turn from this path. Though it may be too late. Even if I asked Volpe to take over for me…."

"Volpe?" Chiaro asked in surprise.

Cesare looked at him in surprise. "Well I certainly wouldn't ask you to take over. You don't even like killing people."

"No, that's not…." He'd actually started making tentative plans? Chiaro tried to stifle a thrill of hope, but found it difficult. "I was more surprised that you were thinking seriously about this."

"They wouldn't work, though," Cesare said with a sigh. "I can't make Volpe a cardinal. He isn't even a Christian."

"Neither are you."

"Yes, but having the pope as one's father tends to increase one's chances." Cesare sighed. "Perhaps I could delegate to him more… have him conquer the world in my name. But you know, if I give this up, he'll lose his loyalty toward me."

"I doubt it. I think he likes you."

"He _wants_ me to use the demons, Chiaro." He sat up again and put his head in his hands.

"You could… fake your own death," Chiaro suggested.

"Don't tempt me." He sighed again. "What about my father?"

"Do you still feel loyalty toward him?" Chiaro asked, a little surprised.

"Loyalty?" Cesare asked, sounding thoughtful. "Perhaps. I don't know how much of my unwillingness to cut ties with him stems from a sense of loyalty and how much stems from the fact that it's useful to have the pope as my puppet."

"Do you love him?"

Cesare paused. "It's hard to say," he said at last. "All of my feelings… have become so twisted. For my father, and Lucrezia… and you. Except…." He paused again and looked at Chiaro. He smiled a little. "Except that I want to make you happy, not so you won't leave me, but just because. I want you to find a friend in me like I have in you. I want to protect you, and love you back. That's… something I haven't felt for anyone in a very, very long time."

Chiaro's heart was beating a little faster. How could this kind of affection possibly be for him? How was he ever going to repay it? Why… why, why, why couldn't he hold onto it forever? God, he was selfish. Why couldn't he be content with the fact that Cesare loved him now? Something so wonderful… how could he ask for it to last forever? It was too good for him as it was.

Cesare gently smoothed Chiaro's hair back from his forehead. "Chiaro… I don't want to lose that part of my heart that belongs to you, and that's what I'm afraid they'll take if I continue in this path. You saw… that was the part Pisano wanted me to destroy. It's what's standing between me and absolute power… that little bit of light in my soul."

"Do you want absolute power?" Chiaro asked.

"Yes," Cesare replied.

Chiaro smiled a little at the certainty with which he said it.

"But I want it to be mine," Cesare continued. "Not theirs. I don't want them to control me, no matter how much power they give me. I want power that comes from my own hands. And I refuse to sacrifice you to get it."

"But then why do you use them?"

"Because they're useful."

Chiaro blinked. "Isn't that kind of like… using wolves as your sheepdogs?"

"Yes."

Chiaro frowned. "But… do you really think you can control them forever? Doesn't it seem already… like they're starting to use you, not the other way around?"

"Yes." Cesare met his eyes. "That's why… I don't want to do this anymore. Unless I can get rid of them entirely."

"Do you think there's a way?"

Cesare sighed. "I don't know. If I purged them entirely, would I die? They've healed me several times now when I should have. Would the healing they've done be undone? I doubt the devil is the type to forgive a debt."

"But if it was slow… if we purged them a little at a time… maybe your body would have time to heal itself," Chiaro said, smiling a little and sitting up, though it required a lot more strength than it should have. He kept feeling more and more stiff, and cold. Why did Cesare keep sitting up? He was warm. Chiaro wanted him close.

"And how do you intend to do that?" Cesare asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Keep having me drink your blood?"

"It worked, right?" Chiaro asked, still smiling. "I'd be fine. It might work!"

Cesare smiled a little, but his smile was pained. "I would become a parasite."

"That's fine," Chiaro insisted. "We could at least try it, right? Please?"

Cesare's brow knit a little.

"It would make me happy," Chiaro said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cesare blinked then looked away, starting to laugh. "You are such an idiot," he said, still laughing, covering his face with one hand. "It would make you happy to have me drink your blood? What, is it a good feeling having it sucked from you? Should I give you a bowl of leeches as your next Christmas present?"

"I meant it would make me happy to have a possibility of saving you," Chiaro said, annoyed that Cesare didn't seem to be taking him seriously.

Cesare stopped laughing, shaking his head. "You know, Chiaro, I think you're a masochist, and that's why you like me so much." He looked at Chiaro, a resigned expression on his face. "All right. I'll consider trying it your way. But let's wait a few weeks. Maybe that little bit was enough."

Chiaro beamed and hugged Cesare tightly, ignoring the pains shooting through his body. This would work—he was sure of it!

"Doesn't that hurt?" Cesare asked mildly, hugging Chiaro gently. He shook his head. "You really are a masochist."

Chiaro pulled away, still smiling. "We _will_ defeat them," he said, pulling a 'thumbs up.' "Together, we'll be stronger than they are!"

Cesare smiled. "If you say so. Lie down, will you? You're making me ache just thinking about how much moving around so much must be hurting you."

Chiaro obediently lay back down and was asleep almost immediately.

He'd learned to ignore Cesare's whispering demons in all the nights he spent sleeping with him. They never came too close, and he usually couldn't even make out what they said. But tonight was different for some reason. They seemed to be louder, and for some reason, they seemed to be talking to him, not Cesare.

"_Did you think it was that easy?"_ whispered a voice into his subconscious. _"Give him a few sips of blood and the problem is solved? Did you really think you could escape the devil that easily?"_

_Go away,_ Chiaro tried to answer, feeling a little scared.

"_What, not used to having the devil inside _you_? Or did you think I'd let you go, give you back to your pathetic demoniac of a master? I will have him eventually. It's only a matter of time."_

_I don't understand._ Chiaro swallowed, wondering why his body seemed to be stiffening, becoming paralyzed with pain.

"_You should know. You came up with that quaint little name for it, didn't you? Cantarella, was it? Did you think you were immune?"_

Chiaro tried to take a breath. It hurt. _Am I going to die?_

"_Probably. Of course, now your master has a bit of light himself, so the two of you together might be able to defeat me. But he doesn't know how. And you won't be able to tell him. And besides, one he realizes you're completely useless, why do you think he'll stay with you?"_

Chiaro swallowed again. Swallowing hurt. _Only a nightmare._ He tried to rouse himself, tried to find Cesare's hand. _Cesare?_ He licked his lips. That hurt. _Only a nightmare. It's only a nightmare._

In the back of his mind, he heard the devil laughing.

**A/N 3: Gaah! Chiaro is so DENSE!** **Cesare's sitting there going, "I think I know what you want, so go ahead and ask for it," and Chiaro just looks at him saying, "Um….." *bangs head. I'm sorry! I'm doing my best!**

**By the way, I am totally spoiling you guys with these long chapters, so don't whine about the cliffie.**


	16. Cantarella

**Chapter 16: Cantarella**

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait! I was crazy busy with my job and a piano recital.**

**A/N 2: Just for the record… **_**la cantarella**_** was a kind of arsenic (a metal poison), supposedly used by the Borgias to poison their enemies. It is not, like Chiaro said, a plant. It's definitely not demon blood. One of it's uses is actually to make someone seem like they're dead by taking away any detectable pulse for four hours, and it's in the running with mandrake for possible poisons Juliet might have used to make herself appear dead in Romeo and Juliet. (How's that for a fun fact?)**

**That being said, since I'm **_**so**_** keen on sticking to the storyline (ha ha), I'm having Cesare call demon blood cantarella, though it's not. I just thought I'd clear that up first.**

**Also (and this is actually true to the manga, according to the end of Volume 4), Chiaro is not immune to Cesare's blood because he's immune to poisons. You **_**can't**_** make yourself immune to poisons in general. You can make yourself immune to **_**specific**_** poisons, sometimes, but that's not what happened with Chiaro. Chiaro is mostly immune to Cesare's blood because he can send away the demons. Trouble is, Pisano's blood was a lot worse than Cesare's, and it actually got inside Chiaro's wounds and into his bloodstream. So his system is having a really, really hard time with it. **

Cesare woke up feeling well again. He still felt very warm, though. He turned to look at Chiaro, whose breathing sounded a little shallow. Cesare sat up and touched his forehead, then pulled back, alarmed. It was burning hot! "Chiaro?" he whispered. Why hadn't he noticed? Cesare put a hand to his own forehead, then understood. He hadn't noticed Chiaro had a fever because he'd had a fever too. But even so, he would have noticed if Chiaro was _this_ warm, wouldn't he? He dipped his hand in the water on the other side of the bed and spread it across Chiaro's forehead. Chiaro stirred a little, but didn't respond.

Quickly, Cesare got to his feet and ran downstairs to see Volpe sitting by the door, guarding them. He really didn't appreciate Volpe enough, did he? "Tagio?"

Volpe looked up and quickly got to his feet. "Master Cesare?"

"First… thank you for all of your help."

"It is my honor to serve you," Volpe said, bowing.

"Second… I want to know where you found the doctor."

"Did he displease you?"

"No… but Chiaro's gotten worse and I need him again."

"Then I will go and retrieve him."

"You don't need to; I can."

"Forgive me, Cesare, but people are looking for whoever killed everyone in Pisano's castle, and I would rather it not be common knowledge that you are near his castle."

"How do you know we can trust the doctor, then?" Cesare asked.

"I don't. What is this worth to you?"

Cesare paused only briefly. "Please go find him. And when you come back, get some sleep. I am well enough to guard us now."

"Yes, Master Cesare." He bowed and walked out the door.

Cesare paused, then went back to Chiaro, who was moving restlessly in his sleep. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed his hand to Chiaro's hot cheek. Chiaro's eyelids fluttered then opened. They were bright with fever and seemed to look right through Cesare before they slowly focused. "Ce… sa… re…."

"Shh," Cesare said. "Don't try to talk." He took the glass of water from the bedside table and put an arm around Chiaro to lift him. "Drink." He put the edge of the cup to Chiaro's lips and poured some of the water into his mouth. At first Chiaro swallowed, but then he began to choke, then tried to breathe and choked again. Cesare lifted Chiaro all the way. Chiaro continued to choke, and what seemed to be most of the water dripped from his mouth. Then he went limp. "Chiaro?" But Chiaro was breathing, with only an occasional choke. He'd exhausted himself, that was all. Cesare breathed a sigh of relief that turned into a sigh of worry halfway through. How would Chiaro get better if he couldn't even drink water? Carefully, he laid his friend back down, propping him on the pillows. He was far, far too hot. Had he been this sick yesterday? Why hadn't he said anything?

Cesare looked away, sighing. Of course he hadn't said anything. Cesare well remembered the blank look on Chiaro's face when Cesare had asked him who would protect and care for him. Chiaro didn't think of himself. He'd been so concerned about Cesare and saving him from the demons… and Cesare had simply failed to notice. "I will be very annoyed if you die through sheer stupidity," Cesare said, turning to Chiaro. Chiaro didn't respond, and Cesare felt a thrill of terror. He began to pace. Why hadn't he realized Chiaro was still in danger? He'd been tortured and _poisoned_! Why hadn't he thought? He put a hand to his face. "Damn it," he whispered.

Then there were footsteps on the stair. Cesare looked around for a sword—why wasn't he wearing a sword?—but it was only Volpe and the doctor. The doctor looked disheveled and Cesare realized for the first time that it was the middle of the night. "Yes, sir?" the doctor asked.

"My friend is sick. Please help him."

"Yes, sir." The doctor went and felt Chiaro's forehead, and Cesare resumed pacing. After a moment, he heard a hissing sound and turned to see that Chiaro's eyes were open, and his body was twitching. "Sir, he's panicking."

"Chiaro?" Cesare went and sat on the bed. As soon as Chiaro saw him, his body relaxed and his eyes lost their fear and filled with trust. Cesare swallowed a little. He didn't deserve that trust. "Chiaro, it's okay. I called the doctor because you got sicker."

Chiaro twitched a little and looked scared again. His eyes looked downward, looking at his body. The fear in his eyes grew stronger. Cesare took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Chiaro couldn't move. Pisano's blood had finally gotten to him. Of course. Cesare could do that too, have his blood affect someone immediately or up to a week later, depending on his designs. Why hadn't he thought?

He leaned forward, cradling Chiaro's head and pressing his forehead against Chiaro's. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'll take care of you, and I won't let anyone hurt you. Just relax so the doctor can treat you, okay?" He pulled away. Chiaro looked a little surprised, but the panic in his eyes had faded. Cesare looked at the doctor. "I think… the weapon that was used… was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" The doctor looked alarmed. "Do you happen to know… with what?"

Cesare sighed a little. "Have you heard of cantarella?"

"No."

"Just do what you can for him, then. You can't blame him if he's a little jumpy. He _was_ just tortured, as I'm sure you figured out." He looked back at Chiaro, who was still awake, looking nervous. "It's all right," Cesare told him, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "I'll stay right here." Chiaro gave a barely perceptible nod. "Go ahead, doctor. Keep in mind that money is no object, and you will be well rewarded if he pulls through."

"Yes sir. Thank you." The doctor lifted the blanket, and Chiaro began to shake, though he didn't struggle. A few moments later, he fell asleep. He didn't wake again as the doctor undid his bandages. Cesare swallowed when he saw Chiaro's skin. It was redder than it should have been, even accounting for the light of the fire, and he was shining with sweat. Some of his wounds began to bleed again now that they were unwrapped, and many of them looked redder than they had been. He wasn't healing. He hadn't been healing. He was only getting worse. The doctor cleaned the wounds again with wine, undoing where he'd stitched to wash them again.

Chiaro gave a slight moan. "Ce… sa…." His voice was barely more than a whisper. Cesare sat on the other side of the bed and took his hand while the doctor poured wine over his back. Chiaro's hand tightened briefly and then he relaxed. Then the doctor examined, cleaned, and rewrapped his hands.

"You're right, it does seem like the wounds themselves were poisoned," the doctor said. "Do you happen to know if there's a remedy?"

"I don't think so." He just had to hope Chiaro's body would fight it.

"Well, for now, take these herbs." The doctor handed him several paper packages. "They should reduce fever and pain. Brew them in tea and give them to him. You may need to spoon-feed it to him."

Cesare nodded. "Have you got a spoon?"

The doctor looked through his bag, then looked a little more frantically. "I'm… I'm sorry, sir, I must have taken it out for cleaning."

Where was Pedro when Cesare needed him? "Very well, stay with Chiaro for a few moments." He left the room and went down to the kitchen. Which was locked, since it was the dog watch of the night. And judging from his outstanding skill picking the locks on Chiaro's manacles earlier, he'd probably get caught trying to pick the locks before he actually succeeded. He looked around the tables, but everything had been cleaned up.

"Master Cesare?" Volpe had followed him.

"Did you bring any spoons?" Cesare asked. He knew he hadn't.

"No. Why?"

"Would you go and buy one?"

"In the morning. Nothing is open now."

Cesare gave a heavy sigh. He went to the kitchen door and tried to force it through sheer strength.

"Master Cesare, what are you doing?" Volpe demanded coming and pulling him back. "Are you trying to get us in trouble?"

Cesare growled and went back upstairs. "There are no spoons," he said to the doctor.

"So give it to him mouth to mouth."

"Mouth to… what?" Cesare felt himself turn red. "No."

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Sir, he needs water at the very least. This isn't really a good situation to stand on ceremony."

Cesare glared at him. Then he put a hand to his face. "Very well. Come back in the morning, please, and bring a spoon."

"Yes, sir." He waited for a moment for Cesare to pay him, but Cesare wanted to be sure he would return. After another moment, the doctor left. Cesare sighed and went to refill the water glass. His attention was arrested by a sudden shout, and running up the stairs. A moment later, the doctor burst through the door. "He's trying to kill me!"

"What?"

Volpe came through the door a moment later, sword drawn. "He knows who you are."

"That doesn't mean you should kill him." Cesare put a hand on the doctor's shoulder. Volpe did have a point. They couldn't just let him go if people were looking for Cesare and he knew who Cesare was. But Cesare still needed the doctor, and if he managed to save Chiaro, killing him would seem rather ungrateful. "What is your name?" he asked the doctor.

"R-Roberto, sir," the doctor stammered.

"Well, Roberto, I hope you will not be unduly upset by our extended hospitality. You will, of course, be released as soon as we leave here and well rewarded for your trouble. Is there anyone you would like us to contact for you to inform them of the desperate case you've taken on?"

The doctor was breathing a little more easily now. "Y-yes, sir, if you p-please, my wife…."

"Tagio, please find out where this man lives and take a message to his wife. Please do not kill him unless he tries to escape. I still need him, and he's no use to me dead."

Volpe bowed and sheathed his sword. "You are certain about this?"

"I'd prefer not to take more lives than is necessary." Cesare briefly registered the irony of his own statement before heading back to the bedside with the cup of water. "_Please_ don't wake up," he muttered. Before he could argue himself out of it, he took a sip of the water, held it in his mouth, and gently pressed his lips against Chiaro's, opening them a little to pass the water through. He quickly pulled away and watched Chiaro swallow.

Well, he hadn't woken up. And more importantly, Cesare hadn't found it at all pleasant, which was actually what he'd been worried about. He'd been very careful not to even let his thoughts drift in that direction, being worried about his inability to draw normal relationship boundaries. But Volpe's actions had forced him to examine his feelings, and he'd been a bit worried about what he would find. He'd been lying about his proposal being a complete joke. He hadn't been serious about it, of course, but he'd partially wanted to remind himself, just in case, that that kind of relationship was very much off limits. But apparently he'd had no reason to worry. This was awkward. Chiaro's lips were much too hot, which only made him worry, and he obviously hadn't shaved in at least five days. The idea of kissing him for pleasure suddenly seemed quite disturbing. Cesare gave a laugh and a sigh of relief and took another sip.

Sip after sip, he managed to get about halfway through the glass before Volpe came in, just as he was pulling away from Chiaro. Volpe raised his eyebrows, and Cesare felt his face flame. "I was wondering what you want me to do with the doctor," Volpe said mildly.

"Give him something to eat and a place to sleep."

"Very well."

"And I don't have a spoon and he can't drink, so this is the only way I can give him water," Cesare said, wondering why he felt he had to defend himself.

"That's convenient," Volpe replied impassively.

Cesare felt his face grow hotter. "Would _you_ rather do it?" he demanded.

"Oh, no, by all means enjoy yourself," Volpe said, leaving the room.

"I'm _not_!" Cesare shouted after him. Cursing, he sat back down and looked at Chiaro again and sighed. He took another sip and passed the water through Chiaro's lips, which twitched a little. Cesare pulled back immediately, but Chiaro's eyes were still closed. "Chiaro, are you awake?" There was no response. "Chiaro?" Still no response.

Sighing, Cesare took another sip and leaned forward. Chiaro's eyes suddenly opened wide, and Cesare pulled back, gasping and breathing in some of the water in the process. He choked for a moment, then looked at Chiaro, who was smiling a little. Cesare glared at him. "It's _not funny_!" he said loudly.

Chiaro's eyes looked away, but he continued to smile.

"I'm serious!" Cesare said, almost yelling. "There is nothing funny about you being so sick you can't even _drink_ by yourself!"

Chiaro's smile faded and he looked back at Cesare. He gave a little "cheer up" smile.

"No," Cesare said. "Stop it. It's not funny, and it's not okay. Why didn't you _tell_ me you were so sick? Maybe… maybe there could have been something…." Cesare looked away. Nothing could have been done. If Chiaro's fate was sealed, it had been sealed as soon as he'd held onto Pisano so Pisano would die. "Chiaro, you idiot. Why would you… do something like that? What if…?" Tears escaped and he put up a hand to cover his face.

"Ce… sa…."

Cesare uncovered his face to look at Chiaro, who looked worried. "Idiot," he said. "Why are you worrying about me? Stupid idiot." He rubbed at his face. "I'm going to build up the fire."

…

Chiaro watched Cesare get up and poke at the fire, putting another log on it. He felt a little nettled that his attempt to lighten the mood had been such a brilliant failure, especially since Cesare _completely_ deserved it for the crack about being in love with Chiaro, but he felt guilty for making Cesare so upset. But if he couldn't joke about it, he had to think about it, and he was trying very hard not to. He was scared. He'd never felt trapped in his own body before. Although the devil wasn't whispering to him now, he could feel his fever, and he didn't want to die. And his thoughts and feelings were becoming a little strange, like he was half-dreaming even while he was awake. He wished Cesare were still sitting beside him.

After what seemed like forever but was probably only about half a minute, Cesare finally came and sat back on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry," he said gently, taking Chiaro's hand. "I just… don't want you to joke about this. If you die, I don't think I'll ever be able to laugh again."

Chiaro said nothing, not sure what kind of facial expression would reassure Cesare.

"I'm going to give you the rest of the water. I'm sorry it's awkward, and I'll have a spoon tomorrow, but for now this will have to do, and you need to drink."

Chiaro summoned his strength and managed to nod. He was too tired and in too much pain to feel awkward about Cesare giving him the rest of the water. And it meant that Cesare was staying close to him, which was good. It seemed that only Cesare's presence was shielding him from the nightmares that crouched at the corners of his mind. Which was a little ironic when he thought about it, but on the other hand… the devil had said something about the two of them together defeating him. And he felt safe with Cesare, in spite of everything. After finishing the water, Cesare sat beside him and drew Chiaro close so that he was lying in his lap. Surprisingly, this movement wasn't painful, and Cesare's lap was remarkably comfortable. He was a little confused, but then realized that Cesare had chosen this position in order to remain able to defend them should something happen. He felt himself relax, which took away a lot of the pain, and closed his eyes. He felt Cesare's fingers stroking his hair.

Some part of him wanted to resist this treatment. It wasn't right for Cesare to be the one taking care of him. And it felt strange. No one had ever done this, not since he was a very, very small child. And yet… he badly wanted it to continue. He'd trained himself to ignore any desire to be cared for, and comforted, and loved, but all of his training seemed to be coming unraveled. It felt so good. He sighed a little. This was too good for him, and it would have to be paid for eventually… but he would worry about it later. Right now, what he wanted more than anything in the world was for Cesare to stay with him and keep holding him. "S-stay," he managed to whisper.

"I will," Cesare promised. "Don't worry. Just go to sleep."

…

Cesare stroked Chiaro's forehead, watching him sleep. He watched Volpe come in and settle in the other bed after laying some blankets on the floor for the doctor. Volpe looked at him a little uneasily, as though he wasn't sure Cesare could really defend against anybody from his position, but apparently he decided Cesare was capable enough, since he went to sleep.

Cesare leaned back against the headboard, one hand rubbing Chiaro's back and the other stroking his forehead. His mind still echoed with what had only been the second request Chiaro had ever made of him in all their time together. _"Stay."_ He had to admit, he liked it much better than the first.

Where had that trust come from? Had Cesare given Chiaro any reason to trust him? Well… yes, he supposed. He had never hurt Chiaro, not really. He'd never let him be in need. He had protected Chiaro when they were with Pisano, but Chiaro had trusted him before that.

Cesare stared into the darkness, remembering back to when Chiaro had first joined him. He'd felt bad about it at the time. Some part of him that was still human told him he was really doing a terrible thing when he invited Chiaro to be his knight. He'd thought Chiaro felt forced to follow him regardless, but he'd wanted Chiaro to _want_ to serve him. He'd seen Chiaro's tears over his father, seen that he was bereaved and lonely. And he'd used it. Who better to be his companion than someone who was too desperate to care that he was a monster? Who better to make his right hand man than someone who had no place anywhere else? He had commandeered the loyalty of a heartbroken orphan. He hadn't wanted to protect Chiaro. He hadn't wanted to take care of him, and comfort him, and be a friend to him. He'd wanted Chiaro's light, and he'd wanted Chiaro's service. He had had absolutely no altruistic motives whatsoever. And he'd known, even then, that he was doing a terrible thing. But he'd done it. And Chiaro was grateful. He loved Cesare, far more than he ought to, all for Cesare seizing the reins of his heart.

"_Stay."_

Cesare sighed softly. He wanted more than anything to be the kind of master—the kind of friend—that Chiaro deserved. He wanted to deserve the trust he had seen on Chiaro's face. He wanted to promise Chiaro that he would always protect him, always care for him, never hurt him… but he didn't know if he could promise any of that. But there was one thing he could promise, and it seemed to be the one thing Chiaro wanted more than anything else. _Always,_ he thought. _As long as I live, you will always be mine. You will always belong. If I can help it at all, you will never be alone._

As if sensing his thoughts, Chiaro smiled a little in his sleep. Cesare touched the corner of his mouth thoughtfully. _I wish I could find some way to keep you smiling. I think I'd give almost anything. _He leaned down and kissed Chiaro's forehead. _I love you. Sleep well._ He leaned back and closed his eyes, heightening his senses so he would wake up if there was an intruder.

….

"_Are you afraid?"_ the voice whispered into Chiaro's dreams.

_No._ Even asleep, Chiaro could feel Cesare's presence surrounding him. He'd given up feeling guilty for the moment. All he felt was comfort.

"_You should be. Do you think he can defend against everything? What if a bunch of assassins came and attacked? Who would protect him? Volpe?"_

Chiaro swallowed. They would all die. _God, please…._

"_Oh, calling on God now?"_ the devil scoffed. _"Cesare was abandoned by God at birth, and so are you by association."_

_I don't believe that._

"_Do you think you can cow me by acting brave?"_ The devil sounded amused. _"Pitiful fool. You can't move. Can't protect him. Can't even protect yourself."_

Chiaro tried desperately to move. Pain racked his body and he had to force himself not to cry out.

…

Cesare heard whimpering and woke immediately. Chiaro was still in his lap, but he was breathing hard, whimpering and moaning a little. His eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. "Chiaro?"

Chiaro didn't reply, just continued to stare, shivering. Cesare smoothed the hair from his forehead, and Chiaro's eyes snapped to his face. Slowly, recognition came to them. "Cesa…" he whispered, a little of the panic fading for a moment, but only a moment, and then he began to shake again. He started making sounds like he was trying to talk, but couldn't move his lips, and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. What was going on?

Then Cesare heard them. He'd become so immune to the whispering demons that he had failed to realize that they were now whispering to Chiaro, and though Chiaro's light was still keeping away Cesare's demons, they weren't sending away his own tormentors.

"Stop it," Cesare hissed at them. "He's mine. Don't touch him."

He heard laughter. _"He's going to die. Do you know how much poison he took?"_

Cesare's heart clenched in terror. But the demons had lied to him before. "Just leave him alone," Cesare said. "Your claim is on me, not him."

"_We'll take every one we can get. And he does belong to a demon, after all."_

Cesare didn't bother arguing this point. "I'm not yours yet, and neither is he. So shut up and go away."

For some reason, the demons actually listened to him and quieted, and Chiaro seemed to calm down a little. Cesare lay down beside him so he could draw him close, trying not to touch his wounds too much. "It's okay," he whispered. He stroked Chiaro's hair and back. "It's all right. Nothing's going to hurt you. I'll protect you."

Slowly, Chiaro's breathing relaxed until he was sleeping peacefully in Cesare's arms. He was heavy and reassuringly solid, even if his body was still far, far too warm. "Don't die," Cesare whispered into his hair. "Please don't."


	17. Wish

**Chapter 17: Wish**

**A/N: Okay, Cesare was **_**so**_** cute in the last chapter. But it's kind of depressing that I have to practically break Chiaro's mind to make him admit he wants something. *sigh**

"What do you think, doctor?" Cesare asked, looking on in alarm as Chiaro tossed and turned and cringed away when the doctor touched him, crying out.

"Well… the paralysis seems to have faded," the doctor said, pulling back and sounding nervous. "But the high fever is probably causing severe nightmares, possibly even hallucinations. If he recovers, they should go away too."

"_When_ he recovers," Cesare corrected. He sat down in the bed and caught hold of Chiaro. "Chiaro, look at me."

Chiaro pulled away, giving a cry. "No, no, please!" he shouted. "Please, I don't want to die!"

"Chiaro, it's _me_. It's Cesare."

Chiaro blinked a few times. "Ce… Cesare?"

"Yes. It's okay." He sat closer, and Chiaro, far from pulling away, clutched onto him.

"Do you know, it's funny," the doctor said, watching as Cesare adjusted his position to hold Chiaro closely. "I'd heard that you were a heartless, ruthless man. Are all the stories lies, then?"

"No," Cesare said. "I am. But not when I'm with Chiaro. Chiaro is my heart."

"I… see." The doctor smiled a little. "Then I hope you stay close to him."

"So do I," Cesare said softly.

…

"_Just give up."_

Chiaro winced at the voice in his nightmare. _Go away._ Even his mental voice sounded exhausted.

"_Even if you survive, you're only postponing the inevitable. How much longer do you think you'll have with him?"_

Chiaro didn't answer. He couldn't think about that right now.

Was this how Cesare felt all the time? Always exhausted, always in pain? What had he done, allowing the demons to heal Cesare? _I'm sorry._

"_Are you giving up?"_

_No. I'll beat you._

"_Good luck with that,"_ the voice replied sarcastically. _"Idiot."_

…

Chiaro's nightmares continued, seeming to grow progressively worse. Sometimes, they continued even when Cesare held him. He'd cling to Cesare, sobbing and apologizing or begging him not to leave. Cesare could only hold him tighter and try to comfort him, but it was difficult when he was nearly weeping at his own helplessness. Chiaro could send away his nightmares with a single touch. Why could he do nothing for Chiaro?

The afternoon of the second day made him wonder if he was actually making the nightmares worse. He'd helped Chiaro to the privy then gone to use it himself, and when he'd come back Chiaro had stared at him in horror. "No!" he shouted, backing up against the headboard of the bed. "Don't touch me! Don't come near me! Those golden eyes…." He covered his face with his hands.

Cesare took several steps backward and glanced at his reflection in the window glass. His eyes _weren't_ golden. Was Chiaro remembering something? "Chi… Chiaro…?" He started to take a few steps forward.

"No!" Chiaro shouted again. "You demon! You monster! Don't touch me!"

Cesare backed away again, swallowing the pain of Chiaro's words but feeling like he'd been stabbed.

"Cesare," Chiaro said, burying his face in his hands again. "Never, never. He'll never be like you. Cesare will never be like you!"

Cesare froze. Who was Chiaro talking to? Well… how many other demoniacs had Chiaro known?

"Cesare?" Chiaro's voice sounded suddenly frightened. "Cesare? Cesare!"

Cesare stepped forward quickly and caught Chiaro by the shoulders. Chiaro blinked several times, trembling, before suddenly hugging Cesare tightly. "Thank God," he whispered. "You're safe."

Cesare didn't even know how to react to that. He started laughing. "You _idiot_," he said, hugging Chiaro gently. "You worry about me even in your nightmares?"

"Don't leave me," Chiaro begged, still clinging to him. "Please."

"I won't," Cesare said, becoming serious. "I promise. I'm right here."

"Yes, you will," Chiaro said, burying his face against Chiaro's shoulder.

"No," Cesare promised, shaking his head.

"You will," Chiaro said, his voice a little louder, almost a sob. "You'll let _them_ have you."

Cesare paused. "I…."

"Because you want to conquer the world… you'll keep getting help from them, again, and again, and again, and every time you'll give them a little more… until there's nothing left. And I know it's my fault they're there to begin with, but… but…." He was definitely crying now.

"Chiaro…." Cesare rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.

"I'm always thinking about it," Chiaro said. "How much time do I have left? A few years? A few weeks? What if something happens, and you're gone in the morning?" He gave a soft sob and buried his face again. "I've never had a friend like you," he whispered. "I want you to stay with me, more than anything. I know… it's selfish, but…." Another stifled sob. "I'm sorry."

Cesare closed his eyes, finally understanding. This was the request Chiaro had never made. The thing he wanted more than anything, but would never ask for. Suddenly, the many times Chiaro had said he didn't want to lose Cesare had much greater meaning. He was _dreading_ losing Cesare. How many times had his heart broken watching Cesare use his demon powers? What must he have felt when he saw Cesare's hands? Was this why he was so desperate to heal Cesare, to the point where he begged Cesare to drink his blood?

"_I've never had a friend like you."_ Doubtful, Cesare drew Chiaro a little closer. He couldn't actually be the best friend Chiaro had ever had, could he? He wasn't even a very good friend. Had the little bit of affection he'd shown Chiaro meant _this_ much to him? Chiaro hadn't even allowed it half the time. Was that another thing Chiaro wanted and would never ask for?

Cesare wanted so badly to grant this wish. Could he keep the demons from taking him? Perhaps keep drinking Chiaro's blood? But no, that hadn't actually worked. He hadn't told Chiaro, but he could feel some part of his essence missing where the demons had been purged, and it hadn't been replaced with humanity. It was just gone. Chiaro's blood couldn't heal him. Nothing could. But… if he was very, very careful, and never willingly took help from the demons again, was it possible he could stay the way he was now?

But what about conquering the world? If he never took help from the demons again, could he still do it? He closed his eyes, thinking of the Vatican, and his father, and Lucrezia, and a united Italy. He thought of wars, and assassinations, and fields of blood, and Chiaro's tears. Did he even want to conquer the world anymore? Was there any way out if he didn't?

If Cesare did stop trying to conquer the world, could he go on like this indefinitely? It would be so very painful, but… but Chiaro would be with him to drive away the pain. He would need to stay impossibly close to Chiaro, though. Whenever the demons couldn't get his soul, they attacked his body instead, punishing him, like they had with his hand. He couldn't always be beside Chiaro. One way or another, the demons would take him in the end, no matter what he did. And then Chiaro would have to kill him, because no one else could. There was no way out. It was hopeless.

Chiaro's arms loosened and he grew heavy in Cesare's arms. He'd fallen asleep without waiting for an answer. Perhaps he hadn't expected one. Cesare adjusted him so he was lying in his lap again. _Are you happy?_ he asked himself bitterly. He'd wanted this. He'd wanted Chiaro to want to be with him, not only for Cesare's sake, but for Chiaro's own sake. _Cesare_ had wanted to be needed. He'd wanted Chiaro's happiness to depend on him to an extent. And now that it did, Cesare realized he'd wanted Chiaro to want something he couldn't deliver. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll do the best I can, but I don't think I can stay with you as long as you want me to. I wish I could." He felt tears in his eyes and blinked at them. No one could save him. All he could do was postpone the inevitable. "I'm sorry."

…

Volpe stepped into the room with a sigh. Cesare was still holding Chiaro in his lap. The latter had fallen asleep, though Cesare was still awake looking haggard. "How is he?" he asked.

"Shh," Cesare whispered. "I don't know."

"All fingers already point to you for the massacre," Volpe said more softly, approaching. "The longer you stay in hiding, the guiltier you'll look."

"Did you send the message to my father telling him I was safe but was being detained?"

"Yes, his reply was to ask for more specific information, and that you should return to Rome as quickly as possible and explain yourself."

Cesare sighed. "I can't go anywhere, Tagio."

"Can't we leave him with the doctor?"

"No. We don't even know if we can trust the doctor."

"Cesare… you don't even know that he'll recover. It's been three days already. He might have lost his mind entirely, and you've been gone from Rome for almost a week."

"What would you have me do?" Cesare asked.

Volpe opened his mouth to suggest that Cesare put Chiaro out of his misery, then closed it. Cesare wouldn't. He knew Cesare wouldn't, because the only thing in all this world that Cesare cared about _was_ Chiaro, to the point where everything else, including Volpe, Rome, his father the Pope, his own wellbeing, conquering the world, and all of Italy took second place, if even that. There was no point in making the suggestion, especially since by Cesare's eyes, he'd already figured out what Volpe was about to say and didn't appreciate it. Volpe sighed. "Do you what you think is best," he said, and left the room to go and play chess with the doctor, who really ought to be dead by now. Would Cesare ever be himself again?

…

Chiaro jerked in Cesare's lap, waking him up. He was staring into nothing again, eyes wide with horror. "No," he said. "Why? Why? Please, father… please, don't…!" He suddenly pulled away burying his face in his hands. "No, no, no, no, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He started trembling and crying.

"Chiaro…." Cesare put a hand on his back, but it didn't seem to make a difference.

"I'm sorry," Chiaro cried, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't, I don't want to, I hate killing people, I hate it, why do I have to? I can never get the blood off, never, never…."

Cesare felt a throb of guilt. "I'm… sorry," he said softly.

"I didn't want to kill him," Chiaro said suddenly, looking at Cesare. "He was kind to me. I didn't understand, and he tried to kill me, he said he had to save me so I could die while my soul was still innocent, and I was scared. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…." He buried his face in his hands again.

Cesare slowly breathed out. So, Chiaro had had a Marrone as well.

"Don't you know me, Dad?" he whispered. "Why? Why can't he be free?" He began to cry again. Was he going to be tormented by every bad memory he had before this was over? Cesare pulled him close.

"Cesare," he whispered. "Cesare Borgia? _That's_ Cesare Borgia? What is he, fifteen? I have to kill kids now? Kids younger than me?"

Cesare raised his eyebrows and looked at Chiaro, but Chiaro wasn't looking at him. Chiaro put a hand to his face. "Chiaro, it's him or your father, you know who comes first." He sighed. "Pity. I kind of like his pluck. In another life we might have been friends."

Cesare couldn't help a smile at this. "Chiaro," he said quietly, hoping he'd wake up.

"God, Chiaro, what are you thinking?" Chiaro muttered. "Getting attached to your target? How lonely are you?" He drew in a breath that sounded like it hurt. "Forget it," he whispered. "Assassins don't have friends. I will never have a friend. But if… if I can do this, I might at least have my father."

Interesting. They'd apparently offered Chiaro his father's freedom in return for Cesare's death. Why on earth hadn't Chiaro killed him? Especially when he'd _asked_ to be killed? Chiaro would have been so much better off. "Chiaro," he said, shaking him a little. "You have a friend. I'm right here."

Chiaro looked at him and blinked a few times, then smiled. "Cesare. I was just thinking about you." He snuggled into Cesare. "I'm so very lucky," he whispered, "to have you as my friend."

Cesare felt his face grow warm. "Idiot," he muttered. Chiaro really had a habit of making friends with people who were bad for him. Prince Djem. His father. Whoever had tried to kill him in his memory. And definitely Cesare. Though really, if he _hadn't_ made friends with Cesare, he might have taken up with someone even worse. If that were possible.

"I'm sorry," Chiaro said suddenly, hiding his face in Cesare's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want you to die."

It took Cesare a moment to figure out what Chiaro was remembering. Did Chiaro really still feel guilty about not killing him when he'd asked? "I forgave you for that ages ago," Cesare said. "Don't worry."

Chiaro relaxed a little. "Such a very, very good king," he whispered.

"That's a bit of a stretch even coming from you, don't you think?" Cesare asked. The compliment was so off the mark he wondered if Chiaro was talking about someone else. But how many other people would Chiaro call his king? He leveled himself down, pulling Chiaro with him. "Go to sleep," he said. "Your king commands you."

"Okay," Chiaro said, and he proceeded to do so. Cesare smiled a little. Worried as he was, and guilty as he felt about not being able to promise Chiaro what he wanted, he couldn't help feeling happy that for once he was the one doing the comforting and caring for, and Chiaro was letting him. He had no idea how Chiaro would feel about all of this once he was well, but at least Cesare could enjoy it now. And it did seem like Cesare was getting better. At least he usually recognized Cesare now, even if he occasionally forgot he was there. Cesare promised himself that, as long as it took, he would stay with Chiaro and offer him what comfort he could until he was well again.

"Oh," he said, suddenly realizing. He wanted to give. He understood the feeling now of wanting to give to someone beloved. He felt it himself. He didn't know how he did, but he did. "I love you," he whispered. He smiled. So, he had come to cherish his angel after all. How extraordinary. Finally, Cesare closed his eyes and went to sleep.

**A/N 2: Oh. My. Gosh. Cesare. Actually. Gets it. **_**Finally**_**. Not that it'll do him a ton of good, since he doesn't know what to do, but at least it's a start. I feel so bad for him, though. He's right, he can't save himself just by denying the demons; he's not strong enough.**


	18. A Selfish Moment

**Chapter 18: A Selfish Moment**

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. But anyone who thought I'd kill Chiaro with cantarella can now breathe a sigh of relief. Also, I'm so proud of Chiaro in this chapter. :-) **

**A/N 2: So, I think Volpe is worried that Cesare will somehow give up his demon powers for Chiaro, and that's why he's kind of flipping out.**

Chiaro woke up, clearheaded for the first time in days. The first thing he was conscious of was how very, very, very tired he was. The second thing was that he was being held. By Cesare. Who had been at his side almost every minute of this entire ordeal. He knew that much, and Cesare's face showed it. There were dark circles under his eyes. Chiaro started to get up, moving slowly so as not to wake Cesare… but Cesare was awake immediately anyway.

"Chiaro?" he asked.

"Yeah. Good morning."

Cesare opened his eyes, no longer looking groggy. He sat up and grabbed Chiaro by the shoulders. "Chiaro? Are you all right?" His eyes bored into Chiaro's.

Chiaro gave a laugh. "I'm fine."

Cesare pulled him into a hug. "Don't act like I'm worried for nothing. Do you know how long you've been sick?" He let go, holding Chiaro at arm's length. "How do you feel?"

"Tired. And some of my wounds still hurt, but other than that…."

"No paralysis?"

"No."

Cesare gave a sigh of relief.

"What about you? How do you feel?"

Cesare looked at him blankly.

Chiaro smiled. "Never mind." He thought for a minute. "How long _was_ I out?"

"This is the fourth day since you woke up and couldn't move."

"Fourth?" Chiaro frowned. "But… shouldn't you be home by now? I mean, aren't people worried about you?"

Cesare shrugged. "It didn't matter. I couldn't have taken you with me in that condition, so I stayed."

Chiaro stared at him. He could only imagine the uproar this must be causing, for the pope's right-hand man to suddenly go missing and almost everyone in Pisano's castle to be killed in the same few-day period. Cesare should have returned _immediately_, to clear his name and make sure no suspicious eyes looked at him. What would they do now? "Cesare, you—!" He cut himself off, suddenly remembering the complete terror of the last few days, and the warmth and comfort of Cesare's embrace. If Cesare hadn't been there…. He looked at Cesare, who had cocked an eyebrow. "Thank… thank you," Chiaro said, face growing a little warm. "Thank you for staying."

Cesare smiled and drew Chiaro into his arms, holding him. "You're more than welcome. For a second there, I thought you were going to tell me off."

"I was," Chiaro replied, his voice a little muffled by having his face nestled into Cesare's shoulder. "But I'm having a selfish moment."

Cesare gave a laugh. "I like your selfish moments. You should have more of them."

"Really, though," Chiaro said, "they must be in a panic."

"So Volpe informs me," Cesare said mildly. "I have been sending messages trying to reassure my poor father, but he refuses to be reassured until I am available to 'explain myself.'"

Chiaro sighed a little. "You know you're playing with fire."

"Am I ever _not_ playing with fire?" Cesare asked curiously.

"What are you going to tell them?"

Cesare sighed. "I'm not sure. I could just tell them we were waylaid and grievously wounded and had to stay until our wounds healed."

"And Pisano? They'll already know by now he held me captive."

"I could confess to killing in self-defense."

"Cesare, you had to have killed at least thirty people that night. None of the guards who were with me initially went after you."

"Yes, but they don't know that. And if I'd given them time to think, they probably would have."

"True." Chiaro sighed. "Pisano himself… that will be your biggest problem, but I can confess to that."

"Why would you?"

"Well, technically, if I hadn't held onto him, he wouldn't have died."

"There's nothing to protect you if you confess. I will. I can definitely claim self defense in that case."

Chiaro frowned. "It… might work. But you're really not supposed to be fighting regardless of whether it's self-defense or not."

Cesare shrugged. "If I'm demoted, it isn't the end of the world. My father won't have me imprisoned. He's afraid of me."

"If… you're sure."

"I already made my decision." He smiled a little. "You're not arguing with me again, are you?"

"No. I'm trying to figure out what to do now. I already told you, I'm glad you stayed. I don't know… what would have happened if you hadn't." He'd felt so pathetic, unable to do anything, unable to even think straight. But even worse had been the fear. "You being there was the only thing that made me feel safe," Chiaro confessed.

"I know," Cesare said. "It was good to be able to protect you for a change. I really am serious, Chiaro. I want you to be more selfish."

"Um…." Chiaro turned a little pink.

"When you're upset, or afraid, or hurt, or anything, I want you to tell me, so I can help you. It's okay for you to want things. You can confide in me too."

Chiaro looked uncertain, but he smiled a little. "All right… I guess."

Cesare was silent, giving Chiaro a chance to ask for something. After a moment, Chiaro blinked. "Um…." He looked a little nervous. "Will you… sit next to me? So… so I can lean on you?"

Cesare smiled and quickly complied, leaning back against the headboard with his arm around Chiaro. "Thank you," he said.

"I don't understand why you're so insistent," Chiaro said. "You already do so much without my asking. How many other kings would have done all this for their knights?"

"But you're not just my knight. And I hope I'm not just your king."

"Of course not," Chiaro said, smiling. "I'm the luckiest knight in the world, because my king is my best friend." He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Cesare. "I think we need to go home now, though," he said, looking apologetic. "Before Italy collapses."

"True," Cesare said. "Are you well enough?"

"Yes, I'm just tired. Whatever happened with the doctor?"

"He's still here. He's been playing chess with Volpe when he's not needed."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm rather hoping they'll strike up a friendship so Volpe doesn't insist on killing him after all. The problem is, the doctor figured out who I am, and that's making Volpe nervous. So the doctor is our prisoner at the moment, but I plan on releasing him with a reward as soon as we're ready to leave."

Chiaro smiled. "That's good of you."

"Well, I wanted him to do a good job. And I'd rather not have the town raise an outcry because we killed their doctor."

"Still, though."

Cesare smiled. "It was nice to be the good person for once. Even if that did still include taking him prisoner."

"I'm sure he's grateful not to be dead."

"Oh, yes. It's useful to have Volpe make worse threats than I'd make, because then I look mild in comparison."

Chiaro laughed. "I wish I had some fresh clothes. I don't know what I'll wear."

"Oh, I ordered us some clothes." Cesare went and came back with a folded pair of clothes. "I'm already wearing mine."

"Can I bathe first?" Chiaro asked.

"Of course, though that will mean you'll have to be bandaged again."

"That's fine." Chiaro went outside to bathe, glad for chance to finally get the sweat and remainders of the blood off his skin, even if the water was cold.

"Feeling better?" asked Volpe's voice behind him.

Chiaro jumped and turned. "Yes, finally."

"I wanted to ask, do you care at all about whether Cesare is successful in his goals?"

"I care about whether he's happy," Chiaro replied.

"Don't you realize that if he fails, it will be the greatest disappointment of his life?"

"You're asking me to leave him," Chiaro deduced, frowning.

"I'm asking you to die."

Chiaro jumped a little. "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"He'll never get over you leaving him. He'll chase you for the rest of his life. You have to die for him to be free of you."

Chiaro backed away a little, suddenly keenly aware of the fact that Volpe had a sword and he did not, having taken it off to bathe. He couldn't help glancing at where it lay, perhaps fifteen paces away.

"Cesare is a conqueror. He desires power and dominion. Do you have any idea how disgusting it is to see him in love? He's like Aesop's lion, toothless and clawless."

"He's not in love with me."

"You're really deluding yourself? Why, because he hasn't asked you to sleep with him? Oh, wait, he has."

Chiaro squirmed a little and edged closer to his sword.

"He kissed you, you know. Several times, when you were sleeping."

"He was giving me water," Chiaro said flatly.

"You don't think he enjoyed it?"

"Certainly didn't seem to." Chiaro moved a little closer to the sword. This really didn't matter.

"Regardless, he is losing his conqueror's heart _because of you_."

"Are you going to kill me?" Chiaro backed closer to his sword. "Do you really think Cesare will forgive you for killing me?"

"I hoped you might spare me the duty."

"I won't kill myself."

"Then you leave me no choice."

Chiaro ran, picking up his sword, letting instinct take over as Volpe attacked. He hadn't managed to get it out of its sheath, so his swordplay was purely defensive.

"Tagio!" Cesare's voice rang over the courtyard, and Volpe stopped, turning to him.

"Say we were sparring," Volpe said quietly as Cesare approached.

"What's going on?" Cesare asked angrily, glaring at Volpe.

"Nothing," Chiaro said. "We were sparring. I was trying to get back in shape."

Cesare looked at him doubtfully. "Half-naked with your sword still in its sheath and wounds that haven't healed?"

"I'm the better swordsman and I didn't want to hurt Volpe."

Cesare raised an eyebrow and looked at Volpe. "Is this true?"

"Yes, sir." Volpe actually had the gall to look _offended_ at Cesare's mistrust. Chiaro wanted to call him out right then, but… well, if he was cautious, it wouldn't matter, and it seemed like Cesare still needed Volpe.

Cesare's eyes narrowed. "I hope you're telling the truth, Tagio. I am not very forgiving of people lying to me."

Chiaro swallowed.

"And if I find out you do mean Chiaro harm, I would point out to you that you are expendable and he is not."

Volpe looked a little hurt. Cesare handed Chiaro the clothes he was carrying. "Get dressed. And wear your sword when you bathe."

"Right," Chiaro said, quickly dressing and following Cesare away from Volpe.

"So why are _you_ lying?" Cesare asked quietly once they were away.

"Wh… what? I'm not!"

Cesare gave him a look that sliced through all façades. Chiaro stood there, frozen. Cesare gave a huff. "Chiaro, I'm not going to punish _you_ for lying to me."

"Oh…." Chiaro didn't know what to say.

"So, why are you lying to me?"

"He… look, I know he doesn't like me very much, but he's useful to you, right? I don't want you to get rid of him just on account of me. I'll be more careful."

Cesare sighed. "Do you know if he actually meant to kill you? Or was he only angry?"

"I… I don't know. He's pretty upset at how much you've changed."

"Not to mention morbidly jealous of the all affection I've showered you with," Cesare said. He paused. "I think… he might be in love with me."

"Volpe?" Chiaro paused. The idea was so disturbing, he didn't even want to think about it. "Is that a joke?"

"No, unfortunately. He… he tried to seduce me."

Chiaro said nothing. _Tried_?

"But I don't know if that was just because he was trying to offer me something he knew you wouldn't, in hopes that it would turn me away from you and towards him." Cesare looked down. "It was like being embraced by darkness, and I think they wanted me to… it scared me."

"What was?" Chiaro asked.

Cesare glanced up. He smiled just a little. "I didn't sleep with him. He only hugged me. Didn't even kiss me. He was waiting for my permission, and I didn't give it, although some part of me wanted to… like some part of me wants to let the demons take me over and give me their power. It was that desire… that terrified me."

Hesitantly, Chiaro reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. Cesare smiled wanly. "Volpe was wrong, though. Even with the visions they were giving me… all I could think was that I wanted you. And then Niccolo showed up and I finally managed to wrench out of him where you were. And meanwhile _he_ was standing there trying to make me think you'd betrayed me."

"Huh?"

"Niccolo said you didn't want me to know where you were because you were afraid I'd come after you."

Chiaro scowled. "That was true, but what a way of putting it. Bastard." He started to ask what Cesare had thought but stopped himself.

"I couldn't believe it," Cesare said. "They kept whispering at me, and Volpe was throwing in his two cents, telling me you'd been wanting your freedom for a while… but I still couldn't believe it, so I kept pressing Niccolo for the truth."

Chiaro smiled, but he was still worried. Volpe had put him on edge again. "But you… don't want from me… what Volpe offered you… right?"

"Definitely not," Cesare said firmly.

Chiaro raised his eyebrows, a little amused.

"Do you have any idea how awkward it was to give you water mouth to mouth?"

Chiaro snorted and started laughing heartily. "Sorry."

"Besides, I told you," Cesare said, "I like this kind of relationship better. Anyway, regardless of whether he's in love with me, Volpe is also angry because he wants me to be the demonic world conqueror he envisions, and I don't want to be, because I want to be someone who can be a good friend to you." He sighed. "Not that I don't want to be a world conqueror, I just…." He sat down on the garden wall and briefly put a hand to his forehead. "I was hoping I would have figured out what to do by the time I went home, but I don't, and I'm tired of agonizing over it."

"Well you haven't really had much time to think about it, worrying over me," Chiaro said, sitting beside him.

"Of course I have. The entire time you were asleep, I was thinking, trying to come up with something and always drawing a blank. Unless there is someway to be completely purged from the demons, I am doomed."

"But we're going to keep trying my blood, right?" Chiaro asked, brightening a little. "We should probably go back to Rome first since it'll make you sick, but after that—"

"Maybe." Cesare sighed heavily. "You know, I _hated_ doing that. Could you not stand there grinning like you're offering me a cup of newt tea?"

Chiaro forced down a laugh. "I don't know what your problem is. I didn't mind."

"My problem is, I don't know if it actually works, and if it does, I don't want to end up _needing_ it."

"Do you think that's likely?"

"I don't know."

"But even if you do, my body keeps making more blood, you know."

"Chiaro, how would you feel if I asked you to drink _my_ blood?"

"A little hurt, since that would probably mean you wanted me dead."

"Could you be serious?" Cesare said angrily.

Chiaro's smile faded and he sighed. "Cesare, I'm trying to cheer you up."

"You're not doing a very good job."

"What can I say, then, to make you happy?"

"I don't know."

Chiaro drew Cesare into a hug, holding on tightly as Cesare relaxed. "Does this help?" Chiaro asked.

"This always helps," Cesare replied. "But a hug unfortunately won't make the demons and Rome and my father go away." He held on tightly for a moment, then slowly let go and got to his feet. "Well, why don't we have something to eat and then get going?"

**A/N 3: Sigh, if only it were as simple as telling the demons to leave and they would leave. But unfortunately, they aren't that polite. Poor Cesare.**


	19. A Simple Prayer

**Chapter 19: A Simple Prayer**

**A/N: Please forgive Cesare's soliloquy in this chapter… he kind of insisted on it. **

**A/N 2: Good for Chiaro, coming up with a very obvious suggestion that no one has thought of (for some reason). Yes, it's obvious. This story does take place in the **_**Vatican**_**, after all. So please no flames.**

**A/N 3: The **_**Confiteor**_**, which is what Cesare recites in this chapter, is a Catholic liturgical prayer of confession. It (along with the rest of mass and all other religious ceremonies) would have been said in Latin in Cesare's day. Having grown up in the Church, Cesare has probably known it since he was very young and said/heard it hundreds of times. Since he's a cardinal, he would say the priest's version, saying "and to you, brethren" at the end of the list of the people he's confessing to, rather than "and to you, father," which ordinary people would say to the priest. At any rate, he's not stumbling because he's unfamiliar with the prayer. **

**A/N 4: By the way, Cesare is dead on in his assessment of Chiaro—even in the manga, Chiaro said he would gladly be Cesare's Azazel goat, meaning he'd be destroyed in Cesare's place if it meant Cesare would be all right.**

Cesare really did try to stay in good spirits for the journey home, mostly because Chiaro was trying so hard to cheer him up. At length, though, Chiaro seemed to give up and settled for riding close to Cesare and staying quiet. Oddly, this was actually what made Cesare feel better. He stopped as Rome came into view, feeling a sense of dread.

A hand touched his shoulder, sending away the demons. "I wish I knew how to encourage you," Chiaro said. "But I don't know what you want."

"Well, that makes two of us," Cesare said.

There was a pause. "Well… the food will be better at home."

Cesare turned around with raised eyebrows and laughed a little. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Assuming we don't immediately get arrested, we can have a nice dinner." He passed his hand over his face. "Well. It won't do me any good to just look at it."

An hour later, they were back in the Vatican, and Cesare hurriedly donned his cardinal's robe to appear before his father.

"Cesare?" his father exclaimed as soon as he stepped in. "Where have you _been_?" He descended from his papal throne to come closer to Cesare, though not too close. Never too close.

"Why father, your concern is so touching," Cesare replied, giving an ironic smile. He glanced at Chiaro, then looked back at his father. "Forgive me. My most loyal assistant, Michael da Corelia, was poisoned and nearly tortured to death. I could not in good conscience come back to Rome without him until I knew he was well enough, and I could not bring him with me because of the seriousness of his injuries. I therefore ask your pardon for any inconvenience I may have caused you."

"You could not in good conscience?" the pope asked, looking a little confused. He looked at Chiaro. "This man must mean a great deal to you."

Cesare said nothing.

"What do you know of Lord Pisano?"

"Is there a reason I should know anything about him?" Cesare asked, trying to look innocent and succeeding rather well.

"We had heard that it was he who kidnapped and tortured Michael."

"Indeed."

"Thirty-seven armed men in Lord Pisano's castle are dead now, and Lord Pisano himself is nowhere to be found."

Cesare couldn't help blinking at this. Nowhere to be found? Then he remembered that Pisano's body had disintegrated, leaving nothing but a skeleton. How extraordinarily lucky. "If Pisano chooses to demolish his personal guard, what has that to do with me?"

"All of the prison guards were dead."

"Indeed? Then I can only assume that upon finding Michael gone, Pisano took his frustration out on those who should have kept watch."

"Upon finding Michael gone?"

"Yes, father. As I said, Michael is my most loyal man, and Tagio della Volpe and I went to rescue him upon learning that Pisano intended to torture him to death."

"What happened?"

"Really, father. Clearly, as Michael is here and not dead, we succeeded."

"Was anyone killed in the process?"

"If someone threatened to kill you in the process of rescuing your right-hand man, what would you do?"

The pope closed his eyes. "But you didn't kill Lord Pisano?"

"No, father." _That was a combined effort of myself, Tagio, and Chiaro. Not that you'll ever know._

"Do you know if Lord Pisano is dead?"

"I have no idea. After we had secured our ability to escape with Michael, we left. Fearing that Pisano would come after us with a greater force, we thought it wise to hide until Michael was well enough that, were we attacked on the road, we would at least be able to make a hasty retreat."

"I see." The pope sighed. "Well, we will continue to search for Lord Pisano, or his body if that is the case. Have you anything further to say?"

"I will, of course, need an update on everything that has happened in my absence. But for now, I believe the three of us need rest, if you will excuse me."

"You are excused."

Cesare bowed low and motioned for Chiaro and Volpe. Within an hour, they were sitting around a table, eating dinner. Cesare was quiet, but he occasionally glanced up at Volpe or Chiaro, making sure they were getting along and simply reflecting. How could his two most loyal companions be such polar opposites? And why did they seem to be more and more mutually exclusive?

Cesare smiled a little. Well, of course they were. Cesare had two sides to his soul, one dark and demonic that attracted Volpe, and the other what remained of his human soul, which attracted Chiaro. Not that Cesare's human side was anything particularly wonderful. It was bitter, twisted, possessive, suspicious, and lonely… but apparently it could still love. And now the demons were growing stronger, and the love was growing stronger… and the more his soul fought with itself, the more Chiaro and Volpe seemed to be fighting. Or rather, Volpe seemed to be bent on destroying Chiaro. Chiaro didn't seem particularly hostile toward Volpe, but Chiaro never seemed particularly hostile toward _anyone_, unless they were directly trying to hurt Cesare.

"So, your explanation to your father was amazing," Chiaro said presently.

"Thank you," Cesare replied. "The lack of a body was certainly helpful."

"It makes me wonder," Volpe said, "if he's really dead."

"Pisano is," Cesare replied. "But his demons aren't. They fled, and Pisano's link to life—and apparently the vast majority of his human body—died at their retreat."

"Will it work that way for you?" Volpe asked. "If Chiaro were no longer a threat, would you become immortal?"

Chiaro set down his knife, his hand crossing to his sword-hilt.

"Perhaps," Cesare said. "But I would rather have Chiaro with me, and I think your death threats are making him nervous. I do not see Chiaro as a threat."

"How can you not?" Volpe asked. "He is the only thing standing between you and your victory. Don't you see that?"

"Hey, I'm sitting right here, you know," Chiaro said mildly.

"As if you didn't know this already," Volpe said, scornfully. "How do you not see it as the ultimate act of disloyalty to even stay here?"

"Volpe, leave the table," Cesare said.

"Master Cesare, I—!"

"Leave the table."

Angrily, Volpe got to his feet and left the room.

"Thank you," Chiaro said weakly. He reached for his wine shakily, but Cesare took it from him. "Cesare?"

"Forgive me, I'm feeling a bit paranoid." He took a sip of Chiaro's wine and winced a little at the taste. "As I suspected. He poisoned it, though I don't know when or how."

"Cesare, you—!"

"…are immune to poisons," Cesare finished for him. "But they still taste bad. I believe I will open a new bottle of wine, just in case." He got one from the cupboard, along with two new cups. "This is a better wine, anyway," he said, pouring each of them a glass and taking a sip of his first, just in case.

"Thank you," Chiaro said again. He sighed. "I think… he does mean to kill me."

"Really? What gave you that impression? The attack this morning or the deadly poison in your cup?"

"Heh." Chiaro tried to smile.

Cesare took his food and sniffed it, tasting a bit to be safe. When he was satisfied, he handed it back. "Eat your food. I'll do something about him, I promise you."

Chiaro sighed and started eating his lasagna.

"I have panforte for dessert."

Chiaro smiled. "Nice," he said with a laugh. He took another bite of his food, but seemed oddly distracted as he finished eating.

"Chiaro?"

Chiaro swallowed his last bite. "Am I really… that much of a hindrance?" he asked, his voice uncertain. "That you can never have the power you want… or achieve your goals… or anything, because of me?" He looked down. "I wanted to help you, not cut you off from what you wanted. I mean, _I_ don't care if you conquer the world, but if it means so much to you, I don't want to be such an obstacle." He met Cesare's eyes. "I can be more ruthless, if that would help."

Cesare didn't know anything anymore. Chiaro seemed somehow more devoted to him than ever, and he wasn't certain this was a good thing for Chiaro. He looked away. "No," he said. "It's for that reason I love you so much. I love who I become when I'm with you." He put his face in his hands. "I want _out_. I just can't think of a way."

"Do you?"

"Yes. I don't care anymore, I just want out."

Chiaro's chair scraped, and a moment later, an arm had gone round his shoulders, washing away the scorching demons in sweet light. Cesare relaxed a little. "Then we'll find a way," Chiaro said. "We will."

"But what if we _can't_?" Cesare asked, looking up. "What if it's too late? What if I can't stop it now?" He wasn't managing very well to control his emotions, so he turned his face back to his hand. "Chiaro, what if I _do_ become like Pisano? Or even Volpe? He's scaring me to death." He gave Chiaro a sidelong glance. "And honestly, I find it hard to believe you'll actually kill me if it comes to that."

"I will if you become like Pisano."

"No, you won't."

There was a pause. "I might."

Cesare smiled a little. "By then it will be too late."

There was a much longer pause. "You could… try praying," Chiaro suggested hesitantly.

Cesare looked at him incredulously. "Praying?"

Chiaro chewed his lip a little. "Well, see… remember when you were fighting with Pisano and suddenly he got grounded to his body?"

"Yes."

"That happened right after I prayed."

Cesare stared. "You prayed for _me_?"

"I pray for you a lot." Chiaro sounded tentative, like he wasn't sure Cesare would approve of this.

"To who? God?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Chiaro gave him a look like the answer ought to be obvious.

"I thought _you_ were doing that back there."

"No. I'm not _that_ amazing."

"You think _he_ was doing it?"

"Well, it stands to reason. I mean, he is supposed to be stronger than the devil, right?"

Cesare was still staring. "But… I was abandoned by God at birth."

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe you just thought you'd been abandoned."

Cesare thought about this. Thought about the angel sitting beside him, keeping the demons at bay, somehow loving him. "I suppose… he did give me you," he said quietly. He had no doubt that Chiaro had come to him directly from God, and Vanozza as well. He paused for a moment. "So… what? You think… I should pray… for exorcism?"

"If that's what you want."

Just like Chiaro to think it would be so simple. "Chiaro… there are rituals for exorcism. I would need to go through priests, and get it approved by my father, and find an exorcist, and—"

"Or," Chiaro interrupted, "you could just ask him. I mean… in the Bible, there weren't a lot of rituals to go through. Jesus just told them to get lost."

Cesare blinked. "How would you know?" Chiaro was right, but biblical knowledge wasn't exactly common, and he'd been a peasant.

"I've read the Bible. Or at least the gospels."

"You _have_? Since when can you read Latin? I thought that was your worst subject."

"Cesare, this is beside the point. I think he can help you."

Cesare sighed. "How can I talk to him? Isn't there some saint I ought to go through, some patron of those who wish to be exorcized?"

Chiaro shrugged. "Um… I'd need to see a book of saints. Wouldn't it be easier just to go to him directly?"

"Shouldn't I at least be confessed first?"

"Confess to him. It's not like he doesn't already know."

Cesare smiled a little. "You know, your theology wouldn't go over very well with most priests."

Chiaro sighed. "You're not most priests. And you can't blame me. All our religion classes were in Latin. I managed to learn a bit of Latin, but not any religion. So I just had to go by what I read. I kind of trust my judgment over your father's."

Cesare chuckled. "You think you know better than the pope?"

"Do you see me sleeping around and selling my children to the devil?"

"I'm not saying you _don't_ know better," Cesare said, still smiling. What if Chiaro was the pope? Nothing would ever get done that involved any sort of destruction, but the world would probably be a happier place.

"Well?" Chiaro asked.

Cesare thought for a minute. "Do you really think he can do anything for me?"

"Him more than anyone."

"But do you think he _would_? I've never done anything for him. I've been a corrupt cardinal, using his influence to wage war on the world. He must hate me."

"Well… if you stop…."

Cesare smiled a little, remembering an earlier conversation in which he had said he doubted God would redeem him since he had no intention of giving up his designs. Now he was almost eager to. "If I can." He sighed. "Well… I suppose I could try." He preferred that option to drinking Chiaro's blood.

Hours after dinner, Cesare went with Volpe to one of the many chapels in the Vatican palace. Chiaro had offered to go, of course, and Cesare had wanted to take him, but he'd been so obviously tired that he hadn't had the heart. And Cesare didn't want to leave Volpe alone with him, so Volpe had to come along. Cesare did, however, leave Volpe outside the chapel to stand guard in case something happened… and so he wouldn't interfere.

He still wasn't sure about this. He doubted he was in very good standing with the Creator of the universe at the moment, and he didn't know what would happen if God _did_ choose to interfere. But he didn't only have himself to worry about anymore. Chiaro's wellbeing depended on him getting rid of the demons as much as his own, because of Chiaro's devotion to him and determination to save him.

Chiaro always gave to him, but even Chiaro had to have a limit. And Cesare's heart was a very deep well that seemed to have had a hole knocked into it when his father and Marrone had betrayed him, or perhaps when the demons had possessed him. For the last several months, Chiaro had been pouring love into it faster than it could leak out, and Cesare had craved it, grasping for it, and Chiaro had always given it to him. At some point, Cesare had decided he loved Chiaro, by which he meant he wanted him to jump into the well, seal up the hole with his own heart, and stay there forever. It was only now that he realized this was exactly what Chiaro was trying to do, and if Cesare didn't either stop him or somehow change the environment of his heart… Chiaro would drown.

Cesare's definition of "love" had changed drastically since he'd first told Chiaro he loved him, though he didn't know if Chiaro had ever noted the difference. Now he wanted to love and care for Chiaro, as best he could with his twisted soul. At the beginning, he'd primarily wanted to _possess_ Chiaro, to the point where he'd promised to hunt Chiaro down and put him to torture if he ever left, while at the same time saying he loved him. Chiaro had shrugged and smiled it away, because Chiaro never reacted the way normal people did, but that had really been a very horrible thing to say. It horrified Cesare now. Chiaro would never in a million years dream of torturing _him_, no matter what he did.

But even now that Cesare loved Chiaro more than he'd ever loved anyone, he still couldn't promise he wouldn't ever hurt Chiaro, much as he hated himself for it. He wasn't safe. He'd never be safe. And Chiaro, for all of his efforts, couldn't save him. He would only be destroyed in the process of trying, and Cesare was somewhat surprised to realize that the idea of destroying Chiaro hurt him much more than the idea of losing him. Cesare needed to protect him, even if it meant stopping him before he fell on the sword that was his master.

But he couldn't seem to convince Chiaro that he had done enough, because Chiaro would only consider it enough when Cesare was healed, and he seemed perfectly willing to be destroyed in the process if that was what it took. Cesare loved him for it, but he also knew that it was impossible, even if the idea didn't repel him. He would consume Chiaro, body and soul, and even after consuming him, he would not be satisfied, because the demons _could_ not be satisfied. They, and Cesare by extension, were a fire that would never say "enough." Chiaro could not heal him. Only God could, theoretically, but Cesare had no idea if he would, or whether he would destroy Cesare in the process. He had no idea what he would need to give up, though he knew he would be willing to sacrifice almost anything.

Cesare took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then he went and knelt before the cross. His mind felt curiously blank. He could spin a web of diplomatic lies for his father and be the soul of political tact when he spoke to kings and lords, but he couldn't muster a simple prayer to God. He swallowed and looked up at the crucifix, studying Jesus' face. Something in it reminded him briefly of Chiaro, and the knots in his stomach relaxed a little, but he still didn't know how to start. He decided to try to be logical about this. How did one start when making a request of God? Well, obviously, with confession. He had a prayer for that at least.

Cesare swallowed and prayed in Latin, taking refuge in liturgy. "I confess to Almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel…." He smiled a little. Michael the Archangel. Michelotto. How ironic. "…to blessed John the Baptist, to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to you, breth…." He broke off. There weren't any brethren around to confess to. All the same, there seemed to be quite a lot of people to confess to. He sighed a little, and tried to continue, though he was sweating. "…that I have sinned…." He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, then tried again. "…that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word and deed." Come to think of it, he really didn't like this prayer. He swallowed, feeling the weight suddenly of the lives he had ended or broken beyond repair. The pain he had inflicted on Chiaro and Lucrezia, the only two people he loved. The atrocities he'd forced his angel to commit. Why did Chiaro still love him? If Chiaro could, could God? Would someone perfect be more able to forgive than someone imperfect or less able? Logically, it would be the latter, but on the other hand… he sighed. _Just keep praying._

He took a deep breath and tried to continue. "_Mea… mea culpa, mea culpa, mea… maxima culpa._ Through my fault, my most grievous fault." He swallowed again. What was he even doing here? What made him think God would even listen to him? He finished the last part at a rush. "Therefore I beseech blessed Mary ever Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and all the Saints, to pray for me to the Lord our God." Right. Ask the Virgin Mary, Michael the Archangel, and all the Saints to pray for a demoniac. "Lord have mercy," he whispered, speaking Greek this time. "_Kyrie Eleison_." He had to face it. No one was going to pray for him. All he could do was try to pray for himself.

"So… Chiaro… thought I should talk to you," Cesare said quietly in Italian. It didn't feel right being so casual, but none of the liturgical prayers he knew seemed to fit praying for exorcism, and speaking Italian made it slightly easier to say what he was feeling. "So… so here I am." All the same, it felt very strange. He had never in all his life prayed directly to God in a non-liturgical prayer.

Cesare continued, "I… I know… you might not want to listen to me, but…." Cesare stopped talking. He looked back at Jesus' face, then looked down. He wished Chiaro was here. He ought to have taken him up on the offer. Chiaro, his angel, could tell him how to pray. He'd said 'be sincere.' So Cesare took a deep breath and decided on straight honesty. "I'm… I'm sorry." So inadequate. He closed his eyes, looking down, then bit his lip and looked up pleadingly. "I don't want to do this anymore. I mean, some part of me does, but in my heart of hearts… the part I want to save, that can love Chiaro, and enjoy beauty, and feel peace… that part of me doesn't want to anymore, and I am willing to give up anything to keep that. But I don't know how to stop… I don't know how to get out… and I'm scared." Oh, great. There were tears in his eyes. He was crying before Almighty God. Perhaps God would take pity on him?

Cesare swallowed. "I'm sorry… but I'm scared, and I'm trapped, and if anyone can help me, it's you, because I can't, and even Chiaro can't completely, and I don't want him to destroy himself by trying." He wiped away his tears with his sleeve. "So… if there's some way to get rid of the demons… then I promise I'll do my best to serve you from now on, and I'll protect and care for the people you give me, not exploit them, especially Chiaro. I will never make him kill again. I will use whatever abilities I have left for good, as best I can. So, if you will…." He stopped again and closed his eyes, bowing low on the altar. "Please."

The room was silent, but in the silence, Cesare sensed suddenly that he wasn't alone. Someone was here, approaching him. His heartbeat accelerated, and he wondered if he ought to have brought a sword. But then, this presence did not feel threatening… at least, not in a way where a sword would have made Cesare feel safer. "Are you not your own god?" an unfamiliar voice asked. "Can you not save yourself?"

Cesare's eyes opened wide, but he didn't look up. That wasn't a human's voice. It wasn't a demon's voice either. It didn't sound angry or sarcastic. More… curious. "No," Cesare replied. "I'm not. And I can't."

"Do you want me to cast out your demons?"

Cesare swallowed. This was… real? This was possible? "I…." He closed his eyes and remembered Chiaro crying at the thought of losing him. If for no other reason…. "Yes."

The demons fell completely silent for the first time in Cesare's life. Even in Chiaro's closest embrace, he had still been able to hear them at a distance. The silence was unnerving. Cesare couldn't help looking up. When he did, the light surrounded him, so bright it blinded him. Instinctively, Cesare looked around for Chiaro, but he was nowhere to be found. He closed his eyes, but he could still feel the light growing stronger until it felt almost solid. Then it began to penetrate him with a power greater than the demons had ever been. Cesare gasped. He couldn't do this. "Stop!" he cried. "Please!" He got to his feet before he even knew what he was doing, terrified beyond all reason, and ran out of the church, the returning demons mocking him as he fled.


	20. Light

**Chapter 20: Light**

**A/N: Lauds is a praise service that took place in the early morning, just before dawn, if you're wondering. It's one of the canonical hours. There would be seven church services every day in the Vatican, always at the close to the same time every day, each with a call to worship. Lauds is the second, after Matins. Cesare would have gone to pray late at night, around eleven, when there were no services going on.**

Cesare ran out of the chapel, surprising Volpe who looked at him in alarm. "Master Cesare?"

"Take me home," Cesare ordered, still shaking, and Volpe nodded. They rode home at breakneck speed and Cesare rushed inside. "Chiaro," he whispered, looking around frantically. But Chiaro wasn't in his room. "Chiaro?" Cesare called.

"He's probably in _your_ room, waiting for you," Volpe said, sounding bitter.

Without replying, Cesare ran to his room to find Chiaro sleeping in his bed. "Chiaro," he breathed, and quickly climbed into bed.

Chiaro woke up with a start and sat up to catch Cesare in his arms. "Cesare? Cesare, what happened? Are you all right?"

Cesare couldn't stop trembling, clinging as tightly as he could.

"Hey, calm down, it's okay."

Gradually, Cesare managed to breathe naturally again, though the trembling still wouldn't stop.

"Cesare, what happened?"

"I… tried praying," Cesare said, his voice shaking.

"You did? And?"

"He… spoke to me."

"God?"

"I think. He… is very powerful. Maybe he was trying to cast them out… there was so much light, but it was so strong… I didn't know what to do, and I didn't know what he would do to me. I panicked." He closed his eyes. "I think maybe… I didn't actually believe he was real until now."

"Understandable; it's hard to imagine." Chiaro rubbed his back. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." He leaned his forehead into Chiaro's shoulder, suddenly realizing he'd just run away from his salvation. "I feel so pathetic."

"Don't. It's okay. Do you want to go back? I'll go with you."

"I don't know." Chiaro's light was safe, comforting, soothing, like a candle in a dark cavern, or a sunbeam breaking through the clouds in the midst of a storm. But the light back at that church had been dangerous. It had been more like a roaring fire, the sun itself, not painful, but unimaginably bright, and Cesare had been afraid it would consume him. On the other hand… it had only come at his invitation. And it had stopped when he ran. The darkness chased him, threatening to consume him should he weaken for only a moment. He was only ever completely safe in Chiaro's arms. And the darkness _was_ painful; he hated it as much as he desired it. But he loved the light as much as he feared it. "What if I lost my only chance?"

"I doubt it. He was human himself, you know. I think he understands panicking."

Cesare breathed in deeply and sighed. "Not tonight."

"All right."

"Maybe tomorrow." He allowed Chiaro to adjust his position so they were lying down and closed his eyes. "I think he might kill me, Chiaro. I mean, it would serve me right, but I don't want to die. And I'm wondering what it will be like to live without them if he allows me to live."

"Without the demons?"

"Yes."

"Are you that dependent on them?"

"I don't know." He stared into the darkness. "Can I really… live as an ordinary man again? A mortal man with no special abilities or anything? Is that what I want?"

"Is it?"

Cesare sighed again. "It would be easier, I think, if I could see a way forward. All I know is what I _don't_ want to become, and even then part of me does. Can you imagine never having to fear anything again? To have complete power to achieve anything you want?"

"But that means giving up your soul," Chiaro said.

"And with it my ability to love," Cesare replied. "I want the light. But the darkness is so much more comfortable and familiar. And I can't imagine that God feels anything for me but hatred. At least the devil finds me useful. But what possible reason could _he_ have for saving me? Wouldn't it stand to reason that he has some ulterior motive?"

Chiaro smiled a little and said nothing for a moment, then gently sat up, bringing Cesare with him. "Just a moment," he said, and went to light a candle with the dying fire. He built up the fire then came back, still holding the candle. "I need to go and get something. I'll be right back."

"I'll come with you," Cesare said, getting up.

"All right."

Cesare followed Chiaro back to Chiaro's room, where his friend located a brown leather satchel. "Found it," he said. "I want to read to you."

"All right," Cesare agreed, a little confused, but Chiaro's voice was always soothing, so he didn't mind. They went back to Cesare's room and Chiaro set up a few more candles, then sat back on the bed, arm around Cesare, and pulled a book out of his satchel. "What is it?" Cesare asked.

"My Bible," Chiaro replied.

"You have a Bible?" Cesare asked. "How?" True, the printing press had been in use for nearly half a century now, but Bibles were still rare and expensive.

"It was a gift. After my mother died, I lived at a monastery for a while, and a few of the monks made me this. It's only the four gospels, but it's written in Italian, so I can actually read it."

"Written in Italian?" Cesare asked, raising his eyebrows teasingly. "That explains a lot. You know unauthorized Bible translations are banned, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. What are you going to do, turn me in to the inquisition?"

Cesare gave a laugh. "An Italian Bible sounds interesting. What are you going to read?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I'll hop around. I think I'll start with John." He opened the Bible, and Cesare was drawn in to the beautiful handwriting and illuminated letters.

"They didn't use a press."

"No. One of the reasons this book is so precious to me." He flipped through the vellum pages until he got to the place he wanted. He relaxed, pulling Cesare a little closer. Cesare closed his eyes to listen. "In the beginning," read Chiaro, "was the Word. And the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."

Cesare opened his eyes and looked up at Chiaro, who smiled at him. He closed his eyes again. "Keep reading."

"There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. This man came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all through him might believe. He was not that Light, but wassent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light which gives light to every man coming into the world."

Chiaro continued to read long into the night, pausing here and there to change gospels, skipping over most of the theology and focusing on the stories—Jesus' interactions with people. Every so often, he checked to see if Cesare was still awake. Cesare was, too caught up in the light of the words Chiaro was reading to even think of sleeping. It wasn't as if Chiaro was telling him anything he hadn't already heard—he was a cardinal, after all, who had attended countless masses and had received a religious education. But hearing it read aloud in his own language made it somehow different. And he'd never really paid attention before. It hadn't mattered. Amazing how many more things mattered to him now than they had before he'd remembered how to love.

Chiaro read about demons being cast out by Jesus' words, and a woman caught in adultery being forgiven. He read about outcasts being accepted and lepers being touched and healed. One story caught his attention, Jesus asking a man who had been sick thirty-eight years if he wanted to get well. Some might have found that question surprising, but Cesare understood. He had been asked the same question, and he was still struggling with the answer. Chiaro read about a man born blind who Jesus healed, and another man who was raised from the dead. He continued to read until he got to the last supper.

"Wait," Cesare said, interrupting for the first time in nearly an hour, "aren't we getting to the crucifixion?"

"Yes," Chiaro replied.

"Isn't that the end?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been reading?"

"A while."

"Don't you need to sleep?"

"Actually, I'm not really tired," Chiaro said. "Do you want me to stop or keep reading?"

"You're really not very tired?"

"No, not really."

"Well, then keep reading."

"All right." Chiaro smiled and continued to read about promised peace in times of trouble and Jesus' declarations of everlasting love and commandments to love one another. He read about Judas' betrayal and Peter's denial, and Cesare felt his throat grow tight. He almost laughed at himself. He was actually getting attached to the Jesus in these stories. And suddenly he felt like stopping Chiaro before the story went any further, because he didn't want to hear the rest. He knew what would happen next. Suddenly, the crucifixes that decorated so many walls and so many rosaries didn't seem like a decoration anymore, because he knew the person on that cross.

But he didn't tell Chiaro to stop. The only reason he might have any hope at all was _because_ of the crucifixion. Maybe—just maybe—that sacrifice counted for him too. Maybe _he_ could be forgiven. Perhaps Jesus might cast out _his_ demons and bring _him_ back to life. Perhaps. So he listened. He listened to Jesus being whipped and beaten and mocked, forced to carry his own cross. His mind filled with all of the paintings he had seen of the Via Doloroso, and he wondered why they had never meant a thing to him until now. His throat grew tighter until he was actually crying.

"Cesare?" Chiaro asked, looking shocked. "Are you all right?"

Cesare nodded, blinking back his tears. "Keep reading."

So Chiaro kept reading, about a thief who Jesus said he would remember in heaven, and a mocking crowd Jesus forgave. He continued on past Jesus death and onto the burial and resurrection, which, though Cesare had heard it plenty of times, was still a relief after the crucifixion. He smiled a little at the story of a disciple who refused to believe Jesus was alive until he appeared before him. He seemed to be finding a lot of people he could relate to in these stories. Chiaro read a few more stories, then: "That's the end," Chiaro said.

"Is it?"

"Are you all right?"

Cesare was quiet for a moment. "If he's really like that, I almost think I could love him. He reminds me of you."

Chiaro's face went red. "Um… Cesare, he's _God_. I don't even compare. If you said I remind you of him, that would be saying too much."

Cesare shrugged. "That may be so. But I've never seen anything close to that sort of love except in you, and perhaps Vanozza. I can only compare what I can't see to what I've seen. It would make no sense to say you remind me of Jesus."

Chiaro paused, seeming like he was trying to figure this out, then shrugged and smiled a little. "So, maybe I shouldn't have suggested you talk to him before introducing you. Honestly, I think I needed a reintroduction, too."

"I do feel a little better about asking him for help now." Cesare closed his eyes. "Perhaps we should go tomorrow morning."

"It _is_ tomorrow morning."

"Is it? What time is it?"

"I heard the matins bells hours ago, so I would guess it's almost time for lauds."

Cesare shook his head. "I've kept you up all night."

"I don't mind. Do you want to go to lauds? There might be someone there you could talk to."

"No… I was thinking I should probably put my affairs in order, in case getting rid of the demons _does_ kill me." He sat up a little and looked at Chiaro. "If it does, you need to get away as soon as you can, because Volpe will probably think it's your fault and try to take revenge."

Chiaro, all smiles gone, opened his mouth then closed it.

"I don't think it will," Cesare said. "But in case it does, I want to be prepared, and I want to make sure you'll be safe."

Chiaro nodded. He sighed a little. "Well, then, we should go to sleep."

"All right."

They lay down, Chiaro hugging him a little tighter than usual.

"Chiaro, if something does happen, will you be all right without me?"

Chiaro smiled a little. "How can I answer that?" he asked. "I want you to do what you've decided to do, because I want you to find peace. Of course I won't be all right if you die… but I won't lose it or try to kill myself or anything like that, if that's what you're worried about."

"Are you all right with me trying this?"

"Yes, I want you to. I just can't help being a little worried."

Cesare smiled a little. "Don't worry. Let's go to sleep."

…

Chiaro woke up when Cesare got up, forcing him to let go. Blinking in the morning light, he reluctantly sat up. He was so tired.

"Sorry," Cesare said, looking guilty. "You wouldn't let go. You can go back to sleep if you want; I just need to go and talk to my father."

Chiaro sighed a little. If Cesare's time was running out, he didn't want to miss any time with him. "No, I'll come." He stood up, head spinning with exhaustion, then sat back down. "Can you give me a minute?" After a moment, he stood up again, and splashed some water from the washing dish onto his face. "Okay," he said. "I'm awake." He turned and smiled at Cesare, who raised his eyebrows. "What time is it?"

"About nine, I think." Cesare tossed him his clothes.

"Thanks." He dressed, still feeling groggy.

"Can you get Volpe?" Cesare asked distractedly.

"Can I send Pedro to get Volpe?" Chiaro asked.

"Oh. Of course."

Ten minutes later, Volpe had come in behind Pedro. Chiaro checked to make sure his sword was in place.

"You wanted me, Cesare?" he asked.

"Yes," Cesare said. "I have a request to make."

"Anything."

"Will you take over for me?"

Volpe blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm planning on disappearing, and I wondered if you would take over for me?"

"I… can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not _you_. I can't pretend to be you, and I don't have your influence."

"Of course you can pretend to be me."

Volpe stared at him.

"Hair can be dyed."

"And my face?"

"Wear a mask."

"But you don't wear masks, and even with a mask, do you think I could fool your father?"

"Probably not, but I could explain things to him."

Volpe continued to stare. "Master Cesare, you can't really be serious. I don't have access to the demonic strength you've been using."

"I plan on disposing of that demonic strength."

"How?" Volpe demanded. "Does Chiaro have some trick up his sleeve?" He glared at Chiaro, who looked away, thinking it best not to get involved in this conversation.

"I plan on asking God to dispose of it for me."

"You're not serious."

"I'm completely serious, Tagio."

"Why?"

Cesare sighed. "If you don't understand, it's useless to try to explain it to you."

"Cesare, he's _ruining_ you!"

Chiaro sighed and sat on the bed. He'd just sit here and be invisible.

"Tagio, I don't _want_ to be the nightmare."

Chiaro looked at him, confused. The nightmare?

"You did."

"Yes. But that was partly because I thought there was nothing else left for me." He smiled a little. "I'm sorry I didn't turn out to be the dark messiah you were looking for, Tagio. I would appreciate it, though, if you would do this for me. Particularly since I'm not entirely sure I'll survive my exorcism."

Volpe said nothing.

"Will you think about it? Really, I'm paying you a compliment by asking you. I think you're capable of this, more than I am actually."

Something in Volpe's eyes flashed, and for a moment it was very easy for Chiaro to imagine Volpe a world conqueror. "I will think about it. How long do I have?"

"Depends on how long it takes for me to put the rest of my affairs in order. I would appreciate it in the meantime if you will come with me to my meeting with my father and pay close attention."

"Yes. I will go and change into court wear, if you will excuse me." He bowed and left.

"That was a little unexpected," Chiaro said after a moment.

Cesare sighed. "Please be on your guard, Chiaro. I'm tempted to kill him and remove the threat, but he's the only one who could do this, and I'm hoping his own ambition will make him agree and forget about you."

"Cesare, don't worry so much. I'm better with a sword than Volpe. I'll be fine."

Cesare glared at him. "_You_ don't worry so _little_. You're making me a nervous wreck with that carefree attitude."

"I had my hand on my hilt the entire time he was in the room."

"And you almost drank the poisoned wine last night."

Chiaro smiled a little. "What, are you going to start tasting all of my food now?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"Yes!" Cesare said.

"You know, I _am_ an assassin, I'm somewhat immune myself."

"You're not immune to all poisons."

"You won't be immune to any once your demons are gone."

"Once my demons are gone, we both disappear and never have to worry about Volpe again."

"And you're sure you'll be okay with this?"

Cesare sighed a little. "I'll miss Lucrezia," he said. "But I don't know that there's anything I can do for her now. The man they've chosen as her second husband, Alphonso, seems to be a good man, and I can only hope that she falls in love with him."

"I meant, are you sure you'll be able to give up being a conqueror?"

Cesare smiled. "I don't know what I'll do instead. But if you'll stay with me, I think I'll be all right."

"Of course I will."

Cesare put an arm around him. "Of course you will," he said gently.


	21. One Mercy

**Chapter 21: One Mercy**

**A/N: I own Sebastian and Marco. And they're really cute, as a random comment.**

**A/N 2: I love this conversation between Volpe and Chiaro. Chiaro's basically like, "Man, you are **_**seriously**_** messed up." Actually, I kind of like their spats in general. They're fun to write, since those two are such polar opposites.**

Chiaro really did not like standing so close to Volpe as Cesare talked with his father. He thought it would probably be inappropriate to keep his hand on his sword hilt, and he doubted Volpe would try to kill him in front of the pope, but he couldn't help being nervous. He tried to listen, wondering if it really mattered. Would Volpe really be able to take over for Cesare? What would be his excuse for wearing a mask? Chiaro looked sidelong at Volpe, who ignored him. He sighed. When did Cesare plan on pulling this off? Tonight? Tomorrow? How long could they afford to wait? How soon could they afford to disappear? Would Italy collapse like a house of cards if Cesare pulled out? But no, Italy wasn't Chiaro's concern. Cesare was Chiaro's concern. Italy would manage.

After the update, Cesare requested a private audience with his father and they went into a side room. Volpe stood at attention and Chiaro paused, then edged away from him. Chiaro wasn't sure Cesare would go through with his plans if Chiaro was killed, and he knew Volpe didn't think he would. The man was probably desperate.

"Do you love him?"

Chiaro turned, wondering if Volpe had actually asked the question or if he'd imagined it. "Yes," he said. "Do you?"

After a long pause, Volpe said, "I don't know. I wonder if I actually know him." He paused. "I wanted to serve him and watch him soar, my beautiful fallen angel. But your love has tied him down. You hold him to this earth."

"But he wants me to." Chiaro looked at Volpe. "He never asked for this, you know."

"So you would deny him all of his ambitions?"

"He's denying himself. Volpe, if he wants to live as a human—if that is the true desire of his heart—shouldn't he be allowed to? If you care about him at all, can't you let him be happy? Or would you sacrifice him to your own ambition the way his father did?"

Volpe turned to him, glaring daggers, and in retrospect Chiaro thought he probably shouldn't have gone quite that far. But it couldn't be helped now. And besides, it was true. "I have watched over him since he was a child," Volpe hissed. "In many ways, I _am_ his father."

Chiaro didn't even know how to respond to that, especially since Volpe had tried to seduce Cesare. He sometimes wondered if Volpe was even more messed up than his master. At least Cesare _wanted_ to be human. "Aren't fathers supposed to seek the wellbeing of their children?" he asked quietly, avoiding the glances they were getting. "I'd hardly say being possessed by demons is in his best interest."

Volpe said nothing but stood at attention again until Cesare came out of the room, his face giving no hint as to what had passed, although the pope looked worried. Cesare looked their direction and they followed. Chiaro couldn't help a sigh of relief. Cesare didn't speak until they were back at their quarters, at which point he sent Volpe away and had Chiaro help him undo his robe. "I would appreciate it," Cesare said, "if you didn't _try_ to antagonize him when he's already out for your blood."

"Huh?"

"What did you say that made him so upset?"

Chiaro blinked. Cesare had apparently read a great deal from Volpe's body language that hadn't seemed at all unusual to Chiaro.

"Well?" Cesare asked, disrobing and changing into more casual wear.

"I accused him of wanting to sacrifice you to his ambition like your father did."

Cesare pulled a shirt over his head and stared. "Well, I'm sure he took that well."

"It's true."

Cesare shook his head. "Do you have a death wish or something?" He pulled his laces together. "Come on. I want to go for a walk around Rome."

"Oh. All right." He followed Cesare into the streets. "So, what were you talking to your father about?"

"I was telling him of my plans to disappear and asking him to cooperate. He said he would, assuming Volpe cooperates. Where would you like to go, Chiaro? This might be the last time we can walk freely in Rome for quite a while."

"Maybe my father's grave?"

"All right." They bought lunch and took it to the hill where they'd buried Chiaro's father so long ago. There were still wildflowers growing over the grave and under the cross Chiaro had planted, and he smiled to see them.

"Wonder if he's happy," Chiaro said, sitting on the ground nearby. "Do you think the dead watch over the living?"

Cesare shrugged, sitting beside him.

"Hey, if we're disappearing, I don't need to be an assassin anymore, right?"

"Never again. We may, of course, need to defend ourselves, but…." He smiled. "I will never make you kill again. I promise."

Chiaro smiled. "Wonder if he's disappointed."

Cesare looked over at him. "I suppose this also means I'm not your king anymore," he said with a bit of a smile.

"You'll always be my king."

Cesare shook his head a little. "I want to be your friend," he said. "Like you're mine. After the demons are gone, I'll truly be able to."

"But…." Why did he keep bringing this up?

"Can't you belong to me as my friend, Chiaro?" Cesare asked. "And I belong to you as yours?"

Chiaro looked away, feeling his face grow warm. "Um… maybe."

"After all, once I'm free of the demons, I'll have much more to spare. I'll finally be able to love you like you deserve."

"You already love me more than I deserve," Chiaro said, his face hot.

Cesare smiled at him and drew him into a tight hug. "Please," he said. "I want us to be friends."

Chiaro hugged him back, tightly, thinking about it. "Basically, the only thing you want me to change is that I should tell you when I want something?"

"Yes, basically."

"Okay," Chiaro said, letting go with a smile. "Then I want to have a garden at our new house."

Cesare gave a laugh. "A garden?"

"Yes. A garden."

Cesare laughed again. "You just made that up, didn't you?"

"No, I've always wanted one. But you can't really have a garden when you're living in the Vatican and meeting with diplomats every day."

"All right, Chiaro," Cesare said with an indulgent smile. "You can have a garden."

"Thank you."

Cesare shook his head. "Anything else?"

"Mmm… did we decide what we were going to do?"

"No."

"I actually really like the idea of being a swordsmanship instructor. We both could. Maybe start a school."

"You think so?"

"Yes. And we could teach other things too… most peasants can't read, you know. The fact that I could when you met me was just because of the monks."

Cesare nodded. "Doesn't sound like a bad idea."

"Where are we going to live?" Chiaro asked.

"A small village somewhere, at least to start, I think. Unless you had something in mind? Perhaps Florence? I'm debating as to whether I should continue to send advice to my father, to keep up a correspondence with him, perhaps. He asked me to."

"I'd like to live in Florence," Chiaro said. "But are you sure there aren't too many people there who would recognize you?"

"In peasant garb?"

"Eh, point. They'd be looking for Cesare Borgia, the cardinal of the red robes." He paused. "Volpe wouldn't do more damage than you, would he?"

"I don't see how he could. He doesn't have demonic powers, you know."

"True." Chiaro opened their sack of lunch. "Here, have something to eat."

"Thank you." Cesare bit into his baguette.

"Wonder if you'll like living as a peasant."

Cesare smiled at him, playful. "I think I'll manage."

Chiaro smiled back, taking a bite of his own lunch. It looked like Cesare was starting to see a way forward.

…

They finished their lunch and headed back into the city. "Signore!" called a voice amid the others. "Signore! Signore with the long hair!"

Cesare stopped and turned, confused, but then he recognized the boy. It was the same child who he'd saved from the older bullies. "Yes?" he asked.

"Good," said the boy, panting. "I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again. Thank you again very much for helping my brother and me."

"You're welcome," Cesare said, still confused. "Are they bothering you again?"

"Well, some of the boys are learning to fight with swords, and they all have wooden swords now, so I was hoping… since I saw you fighting once… if you would teach _me_ how to use a sword."

Cesare didn't know what to say. "You see… I'm leaving Rome quite soon. Today, perhaps."

"Oh." The boy paused. "Could you give me just one lesson before you go?"

"So you can protect your brother?"

"Yes, Signore."

Cesare smiled a little. "What do you say, Michael? Mind if we stop here for a while?"

"Not at all," Chiaro replied, smiling. He took off his short sword and tied it into its sheath, then handed it to the boy who gasped at its weight.

"Wow, they look so light when you use them," the boy said, grasping it with two hands.

"Come over here," Cesare said, motioning to a more open area. He walked the boy through stance and some of the basic strokes, then did a few thrusts and parries after tying his own sword into its sheath. To his surprise, the boy wasn't bad at all, but his strength was lacking, probably from lack of good food and nutrition.

At last, exhausted, the boy bowed and thanked Cesare. "Could I see you and your friend have a bout?" he asked. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Cesare."

The boy stared. "Not Cesare Borgia, the cardinal?"

"Yes," Cesare said. "Does that alarm you?"

"Signore, I am honored," the boy said, bowing. "I'm very sorry if I've troubled you."

"It's no trouble at all," Cesare replied. Actually, he had enjoyed that sparring lesson, remembering happier times with Marrone. "And your name is?"

"Sebastian."

"I'm pleased to meet you. This is my best friend, Michael da Corelia."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Sebastian said to Chiaro, bowing. "Do you know, you look a lot like this older boy who once gave my brother and me bread when we were really little; I think I was only eight, and he was four, and our parents had just died…."

Chiaro started. "Heh," he said. "Yeah, well…."

"Except his name was Chiaro."

Chiaro smiled a little. "Yeah, but he was a thief. So he had to disappear when I became Cesare's companion."

"Oh," Sebastian replied, looking like he understood the situation completely. He smiled brightly. "Thank you."

Chiaro shrugged. "I couldn't just leave you alone, right?"

Cesare shook his head. Apparently Chiaro hadn't only stolen bread for his father. "Well, Chi-a-ro," he said, giving his incautious friend a playful shove. "Will you be my sparring partner?"

"If you promise not to get killed."

"I ought to make you promise that," Cesare said, unsheathing. They went at it, drawing a small crowd of onlookers. Cesare always forgot just how thrilling it was to fight with Chiaro, who could actually keep up with him and bested him about half the time. There was hardly any element of excitement when he fought with anyone else. He won in record time on this occasion, though, probably because Chiaro was still recovering from being tortured, which Cesare seemed to keep forgetting. "Are you all right?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

Chiaro grinned, clutching a little at his chest. "I think I'll survive."

"That was amazing!" Sebastian said, beaming. "Do you think _I_ could ever be that good?"

"If you get some muscles on those skinny arms," Cesare replied, looping his hand around one of them. "You have good instincts."

"Really?" Sebastian was glowing, reminding Cesare so much of his fifteen-year-old self that he felt a small ache.

The crowd dispersed and the three of them went to rest. The sun was already beginning to set. A whizzing sound made Cesare turn to look in Chiaro's direction. Chiaro's face was in shock, and he suddenly fell to his knees. "Chiaro?" Cesare asked, forgetting to use the pseudonym. Then he saw the arrow coming out of Chiaro's back. "Chiaro!" He looked in the direction of the arrow's flight to see Volpe disappearing into the dispersing crowd.

"Hey," Chiaro gasped, impossibly trying to smile while looking up at him. "S-sorry."

Cesare knelt and caught him as he fainted. The arrow was coming out his chest as well and blood was pooling around the wound on both sides. Cesare's mind seemed to have frozen. Had the arrow penetrated Chiaro's heart? "No," he whispered.

"Signore Cesare!" Someone was shaking him. "Signore Cesare?"

Numbly, Cesare turned to see Sebastian.

"Here, get him on this horse. I know a safe place where we can call a doctor."

Cesare nodded and lifted Chiaro onto the horse that seemed to have come from nowhere, and somehow registered that Chiaro was still breathing, although shallowly. "Don't die," Cesare begged. "Please don't die." The demons began to swirl around him, making it hard to think straight. "Don't leave me, not now, please."

"Come on," Sebastian said, pulling on him. Before Cesare knew what was happening, they were entering a small chapel where several people rose and came toward them. Cesare pulled out his sword without any clear reason why. The demons screamed at him to attack, to kill…. "No," Sebastian's small voice said beside him. "These people are our friends."

Cesare looked down at the small, earnest face, then watched an old woman bend over Chiaro, breaking the head off the arrow and removing it, unleashing a torrent of blood as she did so, which she pressed at with cloths to stop the bleeding. Cesare felt himself shaking.

_Come to us._ The whispers were seductive and hard to ignore.

_No_, Cesare thought.

_Come to us. We will save him and give him back to you. We will make you both immortal. You will never need to worry about losing him again._

Cesare closed his eyes, trying fruitlessly to ignore the visions they were sending him. _Chiaro… wouldn't like that._ He knew from experience what happened when one was healed by demons. _And I couldn't… love him if you took me._

_We can make him like it._

Cesare opened his eyes and looked at Chiaro dying before his eyes. He blinked back tears. "No," he whispered. He did not want Chiaro to become his demon rather than his angel. Either Chiaro would hate it or nothing of Chiaro would remain. The demons pressed harder around him. "No," Cesare whispered again. He suddenly became aware of small fingers closing around his hand and looked down to see Sebastian.

"It's okay," Sebastian said. "God lives here. He'll take care of Chiaro."

"God?" Cesare stood, dazed, sword still unsheathed, only Sebastian's small hand in his keeping him from losing his mind. "God…." It was almost a prayer.

"Sebastian?" said a child's voice. "Isn't this the man who saved us before?"

"Yes, Marco," Sebastian replied, turning to a small boy.

"Is he okay?"

"I think he's scared."

After what seemed like forever, the old woman looked up. "The arrow did not pierce his heart, but it did go through his lung," she said. "Only a miracle can save him, but I will do what I can."

"A miracle," Cesare repeated. He looked at the crucifix on the wall. It seemed that God had been willing to heal him yesterday. Was it possible he would be willing to heal Chiaro instead? Dropping his sword on the ground, he stepped toward the cross. "Whatever happens to me," he said softly, "please save him. He doesn't deserve to die." Even more, Cesare couldn't let the demons heal him.

"Signore Cesare?" Sebastian's voice behind him was uncertain.

"Can you take everyone out of here for a few minutes?" Cesare asked him.

"Um, sure." The group of people quietly dwindled until even the medicine woman left.

Cesare gathered Chiaro into his arms. "Please, save him," he begged, looking at the crucifix. "Please, I'm begging you, I will do anything. Save him."

The room suddenly filled with light and the demons fell silent. The bright figure appeared again and stood before him. Cesare looked away—it was too bright to look at. "Anything?" the figure asked. "You were going to ask for quite a different mercy yesterday evening."

"Yes, but—"

"Do you still want me to cast out your demons?"

"Yes, but save Chiaro instead, please."

"Why do you think you are limited to only one mercy?"

"Because I am evil."

"Indeed?"

"I… I was never yours. But Chiaro, at least… Chiaro is good, so please…."

"You refused to be mine. I've chased you for years. I even sent you two angels. Did you think it was an accident that the woman your father chose to care for you could send away the demons? Or that the assassin sent to kill you could do the same, and was of a disposition to care for you rather than destroy you?"

Cesare closed his eyes. "We don't have time to talk about this!"

"Time is immaterial," the voice replied. "As far as you are concerned, time has stopped until this conversation is over."

"What do you want from me?" Cesare asked.

"The truth. Why do you want to save Chiaro?"

"Because I love him."

"You want me to give him back to you?"

Cesare paused. "Not unless… you're also going to heal me."

"He wants to stay with you regardless."

"I know he does. But if I am still possessed by demons, I would destroy him, and I don't want to. He… he loves me so much that he won't think of himself anymore."

"So, if you are limited to one mercy, you want me to heal Chiaro and give him to someone else?"

Cesare swallowed. "Yes… and if you would… please kill me. Because otherwise, he'll come back to me, and if he doesn't, I'll become a demon and destroy everything."

"And if I kill you now, where do you want to go?"

Cesare blinked. "I have a choice?"

"You can always ask."

"If I went to heaven, I would see Chiaro again, wouldn't I?"

"Is that all you care about?"

"Well, there are no demons in heaven either."

"True. Although I think perhaps we ought to get to know each other a bit better before I take you on as a permanent resident."

"I don't mind starting off in purgatory," Cesare said, feeling a stab of disappointment. Was God just toying with him? Of course he had no intention of sending Cesare to heaven.

The voice laughed. "So quick to lean on your own understanding. I see I'm not finished with you yet."

"Meaning?"

"Just relax. I'll take care of you." He sounded like Chiaro, and Cesare couldn't help looking up, though it hurt his eyes and blew his mind. The figure was enormous and bright, and had wings of light. It was smiling. And for a second, Cesare almost believed everything was going to be all right. He closed his eyes and bowed his head again.

"You need to let go of Chiaro."

Cesare hesitated and briefly pulled Chiaro close and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered. At least Chiaro had already somewhat accepted the possibility that Cesare might die. "Hopefully, I can see you again. I love you. Goodbye." Reluctantly, he lowered his friend to the ground, barely able to see him anymore through his tears. He looked up again. "You'll… make sure whoever you send him to… will be good to him, right? He wants a master… you'll give him a good one, right? Someone who will love him, and protect him, and take care of him?"

"Of course," the figure said. "But you need to let go."

Cesare nodded and let go, backing away a little. Then the light surrounded him again, growing stronger and brighter and beginning to penetrate him, just like before. "What?" Cesare gasped. "Him! Not me, him! You said—Please, I'm begging you!"

The shining figure, who was beginning to walk away, turned, and for a moment Cesare sensed that it was smiling. "Cesare Borgia," it said, "For a cardinal, you have a lot to learn about God. But I will make this easier on you." Cesare's vision suddenly faded and went black. The last thing he was aware of was light, inside and out of him, and deep, profound despair. So _this_ was his punishment. He wasn't even able to save the one person he truly loved.

**A/N 2: *Hides* Please don't kill me!**


	22. A New Man

**Chapter 22: A New Man**

**A/N: No, I did **_**not**_** kill Chiaro, calm down. Cesare just **_**thought**_** I did. Actually, I killed Cesare… but don't worry, just read. **

**A/N 2: I was originally going to do this chapter just from Chiaro's perspective, until I started wondering how it would feel to get a new body. And then, of course, I had to write about it. I was thinking about when Chiaro freaked out over how light Cesare was when he was holding him after Cesare tried to kill Juan. I think as the demons took over him more and more, Cesare's human body was gradually becoming more shadow than substance, just a cover for the demons rather than a true body. Pisano, for instance, was almost entirely shadow, which was why he could heal himself instantly, and why he simply dissolved at Chiaro's touch. So basically, Cesare went from a body that was half shadow to a body that's all substance, which is why everything feels so different.**

Chiaro felt a little dazed waking up, and he was a bit afraid to open his eyes. He didn't _feel_ like he was in hell. Actually, he felt pretty good, considering he'd just been shot. Even not considering. Was he in heaven? But he was pretty sure he was lying on cold earth. Did that mean he was alive?

"Chiaro?" It was a child's voice, and Chiaro opened his eyes to see Sebastian's face over him. "You're alive!" Sebastian cried.

"I am?" Chiaro sat up, feeling for the arrow. It was gone, and there was no wound to show where it had been. Even the gash across his chest was completely gone, as were all of his remaining wounds from being tortured. "I am," he said, wondering a little. "Where's Cesare?" But looking around, he saw. Cesare was lying on the ground nearby, covered in blood. "Cesare?" Chiaro moved over and knelt beside him.

"It's okay… he's not dead," a little boy said. "He's not even wounded."

"Really?" Chiaro rolled Cesare over to see that his face was grimy with dried tears, sweat, and blood. "Cesare?"

…

Cesare felt his consciousness returning. People were talking. "…he's not dead. He's not even wounded." Were they talking about him? He didn't want to not be dead. Chiaro was gone. Chiaro was gone, and Cesare couldn't bring him back, and it was all Cesare's fault. Why had he believed God would save Chiaro? Everything was lost.

He felt himself being turned over, and light intruded through his closed eyelids. He put up a hand to cover them. "Leave me alone," he murmured. Someone shook him insistently, calling his name. If it was Volpe, Cesare would kill him. "Go away," he moaned. Why was this person still shaking him?

"Cesare, it's _me_. Wake up."

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. "Tagio?"

"No, _Chiaro_. Wake _up_." The voice sounded amused.

"Chiaro?" Cesare opened his eyes. The light from the stained glass window nearly blinded him and he blinked several times. A moment later, he could make out Chiaro's face, raising an eyebrow. He tried to sit up, still blinking. His body felt heavy, like he'd suddenly become a thousand times more solid.

"You okay?" An arm wrapped around him, pulling him into a sitting position. There were Sebastian, Marco, the medicine woman, and a man he vaguely recognized, all gathered around, looking concerned. Well, Cesare definitely wasn't dead. The arm was still wrapped around him, warm and strong. Hesitantly, he turned to see the face of the person holding him. It looked like Chiaro. But it couldn't really be, could it?

"Cesare…." Chiaro's face looked nervous. "You do recognize me, right?"

"Chiaro… yes, but…." Was Chiaro a ghost? Gingerly, Cesare reached out to touch his face. It felt solid, yet somehow different from before. Everything felt different from before. More real, like Cesare had just woken up from a dream. "You're… you're alive?" Cesare asked.

"Last time I checked. Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are. What happened? I don't understand."

_He_ didn't understand? "I… I'm not sure…." Cesare's mind was having a very hard time processing everything. He didn't want to believe Chiaro was alive. He was afraid it would turn out to be a cruel joke. And his body felt very strange, which was distracting. He felt more confined, and weaker, but somehow stronger. Empty, but somehow full. His mind was impossibly quiet, which was unnerving. Suddenly, Cesare understood. "They're gone," he said. "But… if they're gone… then how…?" A tiny beam of hope broke through his cloud of despair. _"Why do you think you're limited to only one mercy?"_ the bright figure had asked.

"Cesare, _who's_ gone?" Chiaro asked.

"I…." Cesare's heart began to beat a little faster, and he felt the pulse, solid and strong, sending real, clean blood through his body. It made him feel almost dizzy, and he took a deep breath. Never had the air felt so fresh or made him feel so alive. He gripped Chiaro's arm and felt his pulse. He was warm and alive. Chiaro was alive! "You're alive… and they're gone… I… but… but that wasn't what…."

"Aren't you _happy_ Chiaro's alive?" Sebastian asked, looking confused.

"Yes, but…." Cesare turned to Chiaro again and touched his face, then gripped his hair. This was impossible. God couldn't possibly have healed him _and_ given him Chiaro back. "Are… are you sure you're not a ghost?"

"As sure as I am that you're not."

No. It wasn't impossible. Nothing was impossible. Cesare suddenly hugged Chiaro tightly. "He healed us both," he whispered, then realized hugging Chiaro was premature. He kissed Chiaro's forehead then let go. He got to his feet, marveling at how alive and whole he felt as he walked to the altar and knelt, his mind scrambling too much to come up with anything but liturgy. "O God, of your mercies there is no number, and of your goodness the treasure is infinite… I render thanks to your most gracious majesty for the gifts you have bestowed upon us…." Suddenly there were tears in his eyes, and even liturgy failed him. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you. Thank you!" He was vaguely conscious of everyone in the room staring at him, but he didn't care.

…

Chiaro got to his feet and walked to the altar, where his master and friend was profusely thanking God, a sight he never would have expected to see. He was trying to piece together what had happened, but he could only gather that he'd somehow been miraculously healed, though Cesare hadn't expected he would be. But what did he mean when he said, 'He healed us both'? Then his mouth fell open. He sharpened his sight to see the demons, but there weren't any. Not one. "Cesare," he said slowly, "When you say, 'they're gone'…."

Cesare looked up at him with a smile, his eyes warm and full and absolutely human. He looked a bit plainer than before, though Chiaro couldn't say what exactly had changed. He just knew that the plainness was much more pleasant than the unearthly beauty had been. "You wanted me to stay with you," Cesare said. "I think I can now."

Chiaro blinked. How had Cesare known about that? He hadn't said anything. Had he? He felt his cheeks grow a little warm. What _had_ he said during the time he was sick? Cesare rose and came and hugged him tightly. He was solid and much heavier than before, and suddenly Chiaro's heart exploded with joy. He _wasn't_ going to lose Cesare to the demons? He _wouldn't_ have to kill Cesare? Cesare would never have to be tormented again, would never have to struggle against them? It was too much to hope for, but it was true, right in front of him. He hugged Cesare tightly, his eyes suddenly wet with tears. He was beyond words. He managed to blink back his tears enough to see the crucifix. "Thank you," he mouthed through his tears. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?" Cesare asked, looking a bit concerned.

Chiaro nodded, smiling, but he still couldn't speak.

"Um…" Sebastian said hesitantly. "What… happened? Who's gone?" He looked curiously at Cesare. "You look different."

Cesare smiled. "Do I?"

"Yes. You look nicer."

Cesare laughed. "You said… this is God's house. He is a generous host."

Sebastian smiled and nodded firmly.

"What… happened, signore?" the medicine woman asked. "How is it that this man is alive?"

"God saved him, of course," Sebastian said. "Right, Chiaro?"

Chiaro nodded, finally managing to speak. "Right."

"Was Signore Cesare sick? Is that why he said, 'He healed us both'?"

"In a way," Cesare said. He turned to the blacksmith. "Who are you?"

"The blacksmith," the man replied with a smile. "Fillipo Rinaldi. I've shoed your horses a few times. If you're wondering why I'm here, I'm a friend of the boys, and it's my horse you borrowed for your friend."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Not at all. It isn't every day one witnesses a near resurrection."

_Not to mention an exorcism_, Chiaro thought.

Cesare took out a few gold pieces. "Here… for the use of your horse."

The man waved his hand. "I couldn't."

"Please, I insist. You also," he said, holding out money to the medicine woman. "Please, God can't use the money, but I'm sure you can."

The blacksmith smiled. "Well, if you insist." He and the medicine woman both took the money.

"As for you two…" Cesare said, looking at the boys. He looked at Chiaro and raised his eyebrows, silently asking a question. Chiaro blinked and his eyes widened. Was Cesare suggesting what he _thought_ Cesare was suggesting? He grinned, and Cesare smiled. "Do you have anyone you stay with who can't spare you?" he asked Sebastian.

"No, sir. We live by ourselves."

"Well, then, would and your brother like to come with us? We're going to Florence, and I'm going to try to start a school. I could teach you how to read, and how to fight."

"Florence," Sebastian said, sounding awestruck. "Really?"

"If these fine people can spare the both of you."

The medicine woman smiled. "I think they would both enjoy it a great deal."

"Marco, what do you think?" Sebastian asked.

Marco nodded firmly. "When can we go?"

"As soon as I've gone back and collected some supplies for the journey," Cesare said.

"I can do—" Chiaro began.

"No!" Cesare interrupted, staring at Chiaro like he was out of his mind. Which, in light of recent events, he probably was. "Stay here."

"Are you going to kill him?" Chiaro asked, not feeling it necessary to say who.

"I don't know. He still has his uses."

Chiaro smiled. Some things never changed.

…

Cesare was a little nervous as he approached home. He was approached by Pedro as soon as he entered. "Master Cesare, Signore della Volpe wishes to speak with you."

"I'm sure he does. Tell him I'm home."

"All right." Pedro ran off and returned a few moments later with Volpe, who bowed.

"Tagio," Cesare said coolly.

"Is it your intention to kill me, Cesare?"

"That depends."

Volpe came closer. "I realize this will probably be difficult for you, but the constant struggle was wearing on you."

"I understand exactly why you killed Chiaro," Cesare said.

"Indeed?"

"I only hope you can understand why I still wish to leave Rome."

Volpe stared at him. "But… Cesare, I…." He broke off. "Will you take me with you?"

"No. I want you to take over for me here. That will be your punishment for killing Chiaro, or your reward if you choose to see it as such. Dye your hair and wear a mask. My father already understands the situation and has promised to explain it to my sister."

"What should my reasoning be for wearing a mask?"

"Come up with something. You're an intelligent man."

"You want me to do this for you? If I am serving you, I will do anything."

"Yes. I want this to be your service to me. I may write you with advice from time to time, depending on what I learn of your activity."

"Thank you."

"I may not see you again face to face, however."

"I… I understand."

"Now if you will please not interfere while I gather my possessions, I would appreciate it." Cesare went and gathered enough money for four people and two horses to live on comfortably for a few months, several sets of clothing for himself and Chiaro, food for the journey, and Chiaro's Bible, then bade farewell to Volpe, who still looked confused, and left.

Half an hour later, he was back at the church, where Chiaro was chatting with Sebastian. Chiaro sighed with relief when he came in and hugged him.

"You were worried?" Cesare asked, amused.

"Well, I didn't know what he'd do to you. You're not immortal."

"No, I'm not," Cesare said with a smile. "I brought your Bible." He handed it to Chiaro.

"Hey, thanks." He looked at Cesare curiously. "So… are we leaving tonight, or not until tomorrow morning?"

Cesare hesitated. "Tonight would probably be best… everyone will be looking for us in the morning. Unless you're too tired?"

"Not me. The boys might be, though. Marco is already asleep."

"We'll manage," Sebastian said stoutly. "We just need to get out of town, right?"

Cesare nodded. "Are you ready, Chiaro?"

"More than ready."

"Then let's go."

This had to be the craziest thing Cesare had ever done, which was saying something. He was giving up everything. All of his plans, all of his ambitions, his title, everything. He couldn't help looking back a few times as they rode out of the city, and when they reached its limits he stopped altogether. He remembered standing on a hill just like this one with Chiaro. _"I'll show you how big the world is… no place shall go untouched by my conquering hand!"_

"Cesare?" Chiaro moved his horse so he was beside him. Marco and Sebastian were both sleeping now. Cesare turned to Chiaro, and smiled at this crazy, friendly kid who had joined him so long ago when he'd been filled with despair and had striven to make something out of his impossible fate. But he was human now, and he had his whole life ahead of him. He didn't want to destroy anything anymore.

"Are you all right?" Chiaro asked. "We… could go back."

Cesare smiled at him again. "Do you want to go back?"

Chiaro paused. "No."

Cesare raised his eyebrows, grinning. "Good for you, Chiaro, you learned to say no." He looked back at Rome. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and as he let it out, he let Rome go. He didn't have to own the world, or even Rome. It was enough to have Chiaro and these two boys, and the promise of a future without the demons. More than enough. "Well, I don't either." And with that, he turned his back on Rome.

It was several hours before they stopped again. Cesare was feeling unusually tired, and he realized he would need to learn to live within the limits of a normal human body. Strangely, though, this didn't really bother him. This tiredness he was feeling wasn't from the agony of fighting with the demons all day; it was just clean physical exhaustion. They managed to find an old ruin that offered some shelter from the wind, and Chiaro lit a fire.

Fortunately, Chiaro had bought some blankets during the time Cesare was retrieving their possessions, rightly assuming that Cesare wouldn't think to pack them. He made a bed for Sebastian and Marco, then one for himself and Cesare. A knot in Cesare's stomach relaxed. Apparently Chiaro wasn't going to stop sharing a bed with him just because he no longer _needed_ Chiaro to. When they lay down, he gathered Chiaro close. For once, Chiaro didn't object, but snuggled closer.

Cesare didn't know how long he'd been sleeping when something woke him up.

"Cesare Borgia?" said a familiar voice. "Will you speak with me?"

Cesare gently released Chiaro to sit up. The bright figure was standing a few yards away, and for some reason Cesare could almost look at it now without being blinded. Cesare rose to his feet, took a few steps closer, then knelt and bowed. "Thank you," he said.

"You are more than welcome," the figure replied.

"Although I had a question." Cesare straightened a little, but still knelt. "If you meant all along to save us both and give Chiaro back to me, why did you imply that you would kill me and promise to send Chiaro to someone who would love him and protect him and care for him?"

The figure smiled. "Don't you see that's exactly what I did?"

Frowning in confusion, Cesare shook his head.

"You were right. It was impossible for you to survive your exorcism. That is why Chiaro could not heal you. Your link to life was lost when the demons fled at my command."

Cesare blinked. "So… I died?" That was a little disconcerting. "I'm not dead now, am I?"

"No. I raised you, making you a new man, and giving Chiaro a new master in the process. One who I believe will do just what you wished."

"Oh." Cesare smiled. Was he really able now to be the master Chiaro deserved? Well, there was no reason why he couldn't be.

"So, now that you are a new man," the figure said, "I came to ask if you would consider a change in your allegiance. Accept a master of your own, perhaps."

Cesare blinked a few times, feeling surprisingly pleased by the question. Was this how Chiaro had felt when Cesare had invited him to serve him? He smiled. "Are you going to show up like this on a regular basis?"

"This may be the last time, on this side of eternity. I believe you're strong enough to follow me on faith now."

"But why would you _want_ me to follow you?" Cesare asked. "I… I can't even count how many times I've sinned. I never cared until now."

"Your sins were gone the moment you confessed them in the church yesterday night."

Cesare blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Cesare hesitated, then straightened again. "Then I am yours."

The figure smiled. "I'll remember that."

"Can…" Cesare paused. "Can… can I hug you?"

"When next we meet," the figure replied with another smile. "It would break your mind if I touched you now. But we shall meet again. Until then, remember that I love you."

Cesare blinked. "I… oh…." He felt sure he was bright red. Was that the way he was supposed to react?

The figure laughed again and disappeared.

"I love you too," Cesare said quietly into the darkness. He took a deep breath and let it out

slowly.

"Cesare?" Chiaro murmured. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Cesare replied. He lay down, pulling Chiaro close again. He had so wanted to keep Chiaro by his side. "I love you."

"Love you too," Chiaro whispered, falling asleep again within seconds.

**A/N 3: It just occurred to me, I think I'm the only Cantarella fanfic author who actually takes away Cesare's demons. Is that weird? Is it too bizarre with a happy ending?**

**Yeah, I know I just created a major historical paradox; I'll fix it in the next chapter. **

**As for the mysterious figure of light… I'm still trying to figure out if it's an angel or a theophany. I'm thinking the second. If you have no idea what I'm even talking about, don't worry about it. Whatever it was, God was speaking through it.**


	23. Afterward

**Afterward**

**A/N: This, dear readers, is the end. I am sorry, but it had to come eventually. This story was already absurdly long, especially in comparison to all the other Cantarella fanfics.**

**This is the part where you get my defense of this entire story. Historically, Cesare Borgia actually did get syphilis, and because he was self-conscious about his looks, he started dressing in black and wearing masks. No joke. I found this out while I was frantically trying to figure out some way to save Cesare while still being reasonably historically accurate, and went "Ah ha!" Because of course, if Cesare Borgia was wearing a mask, how are we to know if it was actually Cesare Borgia?**

**Okay, I admit it's a lame defense, but there you go. **

"Hiya!" Sebastian cried, thrusting forward as he sparred with Chiaro, whose turn it was to give him his morning lesson.

"Too slow," Chiaro said, finally ending the battle. "But you'll get there."

Sebastian beamed, then went to sit by Cesare, who was looking at a letter. "Were you watching?" He asked. "Did I do good?"

Cesare smiled at him fondly. "You did very well."

"Really?"

"Yes. Though I warn you, it may be quite some time before you can match Chiaro."

"I'll do my best!"

"That's the spirit."

"What are you reading?" Chiaro asked, coming over after Sebastian had run off to play with Marco.

"A letter from my father. Volpe is doing quite well. Apparently I have syphilis now."

"Syphilis!"

"Yes, syphilis."

"What, is this Volpe's revenge or something?"

"Perhaps. But it's also practical, since it appears I am quite self-conscious about the scars it's left and so have taken to dressing in black and wearing masks."

Chiaro raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. "Now _that_ sounds like you. Wrapped up in your looks."

Cesare rolled up the paper and smacked Chiaro on the forehead, making him laugh.

"Seriously," Chiaro said, still laughing. "He couldn't have just said you were wounded?"

Cesare rolled his eyes. "Apparently he has a vulgar sense of humor." He unrolled the letter again and continued reading. "Lucrezia is doing well. Oh, she's expecting a child. Well, then. I wonder if she's fallen in love with Alphonso after all." He smiled. "We may need to visit incognito sometime and meet my niece or nephew."

"Incognito? Won't that be kind of difficult in _Rome_? I mean, seriously, you were worried about _me_ standing out."

Cesare shrugged. "I'll figure something out."

Chiaro sat beside him and put an arm around him. "Feeling homesick?"

"Not really." He leaned against Chiaro. Although he no longer needed Chiaro to send the demons away, excepting very occasionally when they'd visit to offer him his former life in his moments of weakness or confusion, he still enjoyed Chiaro's affection. Now and again, he missed the thrill of being pulled from his darkness into Chiaro's light, but the peace he felt almost constantly now was worth it. As for the power he used to have, he hardly missed that at all, though he did occasionally miss coming up with his perfect plots. But he had something more worthwhile to do now. He and Chiaro had started a school for peasant children, teaching them reading, writing, arithmetic, and swordsmanship. They charged a small fee to sustain themselves, but nothing the peasants couldn't afford.

"Shouldn't you be opening the doors, soon?" Chiaro asked presently. "The students will be here in a quarter of an hour."

"All in good time."

Chiaro chuckled. "You know, I'm glad you didn't suddenly get hands-off on me once the demons were gone."

"Oh, certainly not." Really, their relationship hadn't changed very much, except that the hole in Cesare's heart was healed now, which meant he was able to give nearly as much as he received, and he loved it. For a while, Chiaro had been a little uncertain, since Cesare no longer "needed" him, but Cesare had made it quite clear that he still _wanted_ Chiaro, and Chiaro had managed to find a use for himself in helping Cesare learn to be a peasant.

It was nice, really, to not "need" Chiaro in the technical sense. He no longer craved Chiaro's embrace. He just liked it. He didn't have to cling and grasp. He could give, and enjoy giving. He was still a bit possessive of Chiaro, but he'd stopped taking it as a personal insult whenever Chiaro decided to make a friend that wasn't him. Which Chiaro had; in fact, he'd made several, which had surprised Cesare at first. Chiaro hadn't made any friends while they were at school, except Cesare. He hadn't made friends with Volpe or anyone else while they were at the Vatican. And yes, that had been primarily because Cesare had kept Chiaro very much to himself, but Chiaro hadn't seemed very inclined to make friends anyway.

When Cesare had finally asked him about it, Chiaro, after making sure this didn't bother Cesare and that he wasn't making Cesare feel left out (which it did, and he was, but Cesare didn't want to admit this, since he knew he was being a bit silly), had explained that he hadn't really felt comfortable with anyone at school or the Vatican except Cesare, but now he was among his own people, so he felt like he could talk to them. He'd quickly assured Cesare that _he_ was his best friend and had nothing to worry about as far as loyalty was concerned, and Cesare had assured him that he wasn't worried. Which he wasn't. He'd only been a little jealous. Chiaro had encouraged Cesare to make other friends as well. Cesare was doubtful, but he did try making conversation at least with the parents of the children who came for lessons, which seemed to be going well. Often, Chiaro facilitated this, since he knew Cesare sometimes had a hard time fitting in. But Cesare had decided he preferred peasants to nobility regardless.

Finally, Cesare sighed and sat up. "I should go open the door."

"Hey," Chiaro said as Cesare got to his feet. Cesare turned. "Are you really happy?" Chiaro asked. "No regrets about not being in Rome right now?"

Cesare smiled. "Of course not. Besides, if we weren't here, who would be helping the peasants move up in the world?"

Chiaro shrugged. "Not to mention feeding them. You realize we almost break even with all the bread you keep giving out?" Cesare ignored him and went to open the door. Chiaro grinned after him.


End file.
